Táncol?
by Lady Charity
Summary: Elizaveta is determined to find out who Gilbert wants to ask out for the school dance. If that means bullying his friends, being hired by Gilbert to slave over a cake, and invading his diaries, so be it. Chap 6: You broke your promise.
1. Antrag

_Just exactly how girly are you?_

Elizaveta gaped at the text she just received. Who in the world was asking her about her feminine side? She checked the phone number and groaned inwardly.

Of course.

Gilbert Beilschmidt.

She should've known.

Elizaveta snapped her phone shut and threw it back into her handbag. She didn't even want to bother answering his text.

Of course, she knew it wouldn't end there. Almost immediately after she clasped her bag shut, the phone started chiming again. She slapped her hand on her forehead and sighed exasperatedly.

"Just ignore him," she urged herself, returning to her homework. As the text chime died down, she smiled to herself. That boy had to learn that she wasn't one to make his whims her first priorities.

Unfortunately, just as her pencil touched paper, the cell phone chimed again. Elizaveta nearly snapped her pencil in half. She banged her head on her desk and yelled in frustration. She considered turning the cell phone off altogether, but what if Roderich needed to contact her? Sure, they weren't together anymore, but they were still very good friends.

God, that chime was infuriating. Elizaveta had given a special ringtone for Gilbert just so she was warned ahead of time. It used to be her favorite song; now whenever she hears it on the radio she would seize up and had the sudden urge to throw the nearest object.

Elizaveta flipped open her cell phone to find two new texts from the German—pardon me, Prussian. According to Gilbert, being a Prussian made him cooler because 'Prussian' sounded more unique than 'German.'

_Are you really romantic? _

_I don't understand girls but hopefully you can._

Elizaveta raised her eyebrows and shut her phone again. It wasn't unusual for Gilbert to send her the most outlandish texts for no reason. Still, why did he want to know how girly and romantic she was? He couldn't possibly…no…he couldn't have a _crush_, did he? She would ask, but that would mean actually responding to Gilbert.

And lo and behold, the cell phone started to ring.

Elizaveta quickly checked the caller ID. It was The Prussian Prat. Gilbert was calling her now.

She sighed and resignedly picked up the call. If she didn't, she knew Gilbert would bother her through the whole night. He was passionately stubborn.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Finally, you found your cell phone!" Gilbert exclaimed. Elizaveta winced at his loud voice.

"I was ignoring you," Elizaveta corrected hotly.

"Why would you ignore me?" Gilbert asked. "It isn't nice to ignore your best friend."

Elizaveta rubbed her forehead. She was certain the skin was rubbed raw by now.

"It isn't nice to call your best friend a sadistic, pan-wielding madwoman either," Elizaveta countered, remembering that Gilbert had called her that in a very loud voice in the middle of an assembly just yesterday.

"I know that already. Now we're on the same track." Elizaveta groaned. Gilbert obviously had a short term memory when it came to his faults.

"What do you want from me?" Elizaveta growled.

"I want something from you," Gilbert said.

"I figured that out myself, funny enough. What do you want?"

"Well, how do I put this? You're a girl," Gilbert said simply. "A psychotic, evil one, but a girl nonetheless."

Elizaveta glared at her reflection in her vanity mirror. This was going to be a long phone conversation.

"And you know girly stuff," added Gilbert. "What they like and what they find completely irresistible."

"Stop beating around the bush, Gilbert. I don't have time for you," Elizaveta interrupted.

"My word, woman, am I interrupting something? Are you too busy poisoning apples for pretty little girls?" Gilbert retorted.

Elizaveta squeezed her cell phone so tightly it almost broke.

"Why do you need to know what girls like?" Elizaveta asked, taking a sip from her water bottle.

"Because I need to win a girl over and ask her out to the school dance, except she's so picky that I know I have to do something she specifically likes."

Elizaveta choked on her water. She coughed violently, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I knew you were like a wicked witch, but your evil laugh could use a little work," Gilbert said on the other end.

"You like a _girl_?" Elizaveta exclaimed.

"I certainly don't like a _man_, if that's what you're thinking," Gilbert shot back. "Though considering what goes on in your mind, you wouldn't mind that at all."

"Not a chance. My love for that kind of romance would be absolutely tainted if you had anything to do with it," Elizaveta said haughtily.

"Maybe I should do that then, just to spite you," Gilbert laughed. "No, I'm serious. It's a girl. I think she is, anyways, considering how she acts."

"Speak about her like that and you'll never woo her," Elizaveta said. She tried picturing Gilbert wooing anyone and nearly gagged. It defied all laws of nature.

"She's persnickety, that woman. Normally my presence alone should be irresistible, but this girl apparently thinks…not as much."

"God bless her," Elizaveta gushed. Gilbert coughed on the other end. "So why am I any part of this?"

"Be_cause_," said Gilbert. "You need to…to help me."

Elizaveta's jaw dropped.

"You're not serious," she said.

"Don't you think that if I wasn't serious, you would be laughing?" Gilbert retorted.

"Your jokes aren't exactly funny," Elizaveta sneered.

"Yeah right. Everyone loves my jokes," Gilbert smirked.

Elizaveta didn't even bother making a snarky remark. She was still completely drenched head to toe with shock. Not only was Gilbert forcefully employing her into some maddening plot of his, but he was actually _asking _for help. Gilbert Beilschmidt was acknowledging the fact that he lacked special attributes and needed _her_ help! Elizaveta immediately scribbled the occasion on her calendar.

"Did my aura render you speechless or something? I'd expect it, but seriously, I need some sort of response before I have to call the CPR crew for you," Gilbert's voice said.

"I'm relishing the moment," Elizaveta said firmly. "I'm extremely surprised and pleased that you finally realized that your 'super awesome' plans for flattering women aren't effective."

"I never thought that," Gilbert laughed. "I know that all my other antics would've worked perfectly if it was with a sane girl. Well, I haven't tried it on any sane girl, but I'm sure that they're perfect."

"What makes this girl insane, hm?" Elizaveta asked curiously.

"She's—weird," Gilbert said awkwardly. "She can be a pain in the neck sometimes—almost all the time—but at the same time—bah. She won't get out of my mind."

Elizaveta couldn't believe what Gilbert was saying. She had known Gilbert since they were young children. He laughed at the idea of romance, scorned fairy tales, did everything in his power to prank her and Roderich when they were going out, and even went as far as saying that the yaoi music videos she loved were all scripted and fake and that those guys were probably sworn enemies only kissing each other for money and not passion. That last one deserved a nice slap in the face with a pan.

"I never knew this day would come," Elizaveta admitted, laughter nipping at her voice.

"What? Do you think I'm a passionless hermit?" Gilbert asked.

"I'm surprised you're capable of liking anyone besides yourself," Elizaveta giggled.

"Hmph," Gilbert grunted. "Well, I'll meet you after school tomorrow. We'll talk about what we can do."

"Hold up there," Elizaveta said quickly. "I never even said yes."

"Why would you refuse?" Gilbert questioned.

"It would mean I would actually have to spend time with you," Elizaveta said sardonically.

"I see what you mean. You can only take so much of my awesomeness at a time," he sighed dramatically. "Besides, if you asked me what I wanted from you, that meant you were curious, which means you want to know what I'm up to, which means—"

"Can it," Elizaveta grumbled. "I have my own life to live, you know. I have Gilbert-free moments."

"I can fix that," Gilbert said cheerily.

"I don't work for free, kiddo," Elizaveta said coldly.

"What?" Gilbert moaned. "Being with me isn't enough? Not even the satisfaction of helping me score a girl's heart?"

"No. I'll feel more guilt than satisfaction," Elizaveta said bluntly.

Gilbert groaned. "I don't exactly want to give you money."

"Not that I want your filthy money, Scrooge," Elizaveta scoffed. "Who knows where you get it?"

"I don't steal or anything, baby doll," Gilbert sang.

"Then go buy her some candy! Chocolates! Jewelry! Something stupid like that!" Elizaveta cried desperately.

"You think those ideas are stupid?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah," sniffed Elizaveta. "Money is a stupid way of buying a girl's heart."

"Hmm." Gilbert's voice was tinged with mischief. "You're proving yourself to be a very valuable partner, Eliza sweet."

"I refuse to be your personal slave," Elizaveta warned.

Gilbert sighed exasperatedly. "I was hoping that the end product would be enough of a reward for you, but if you _really _insist…" He lowered his voice as if he was passing on a secret. "You know how Antonio and Lovino are buddy-buddy?"

"Buddy-buddy?" Elizaveta repeated.

"Is your mind working properly today?" Gilbert snickered. "Well, let's just say that one night, while they were at my house, Antonio decided he wanted some quality time with Lovi in my guest bedroom, and I just _happened _to leave my video camera on the entire time…"

Elizaveta suddenly felt squeamish with excitement. She absolutely _adored_ Lovino and Antonio together. Every time she looked at them walking together down the school hallways she silently begged that Antonio would just scoop Lovino into his arms and plant a passionate kiss on his lips. She could feel her stomach overflow with butterflies. She had to suppress a scream of delight.

"Fine," Elizaveta choked out. "Deal. You give me the tape and I'll help you win this girl's heart."

"No, not until you help me do I give this to you," Gilbert protested.

"No way!" Elizaveta snapped. "How do I know that your definition of quality time isn't just an all-nighter playing video games?"

"Elizaveta, this is _Antonio_ we're talking about," Gilbert said plainly. "Besides, I think Francis corrupted him enough to change Antonio's definition of quality time."

Elizaveta bit her lip. This was too good of a deal to pass. And she _was_ very curious as to who Gilbert was planning to ask out to the dance. Also, while she was at it, Gilbert was under her mercy. She could do whatever she wanted…

"All right, then," Elizaveta agreed. "Let's do this."

Gilbert laughed triumphantly. "Yes! You're not that much of an apathetic Hungarian after all! See you tomorrow, Eliza!"

When Gilbert hung up, Elizaveta dropped the phone.

What exactly did she get herself in to?

**So this story is based on real life events. Hmm, the word 'based' isn't even enough. It's extremely similar to real life events. **

**I just noticed that my sister is a lot like Hungary and this other guy is a lot like Prussia. Their relationship is nearly identical to Hungary and Prussia's. They're frenemies, they fight, they attack each other, they 'hate' each other, they are very competitive…**

**And this also happened to them too. The guy asked my sister to help him ask a girl out to prom, and she agreed. And a lot of chaos went on. And voila, it inspires a Gakuen Hetalia fanfiction.**

**Though the ending of this story will be different from the real life story…**

**The next chapter might take a while to come, because finals are coming soon…**

**I think this is my first time writing romance in three years. **

**Please review? **


	2. Dobos Torte

Elizaveta couldn't believe she was doing this.

When she finally slaved through her last class of the day, she was so excited to go back home, kick off her shoes, and take a nap. Then in the middle of her professor's lecture, Gilbert just happened to text her. Her cell phone chimed loudly when the professor was in midsentence, and _everyone_ in the class knew it was her cell phone and _everyone_ knew it was from Gilbert because they all saw her eyes grow wide and curse like a sailor whenever that chime sounded.

Oh, she read their minds like an open book.

_Is she going out with Gilbert then again she already broke up with Roderich but she hates Gilbert well they were childhood friends I thought she hated his guts Gilbert is rather handsome though blah blah blah blah blah._

Elizaveta could feel her eyebrows twitch when she stomped on her phone in her bag to shut it off and apologized to the professor.

It was times like this that made her want to strangle the living daylights out of that boy.

When the bell finally rang and signaled the end of another tiring school day, Elizaveta reluctantly opened her cell phone and read the text.

_Don't read texts in class._

She was going to kill that boy.

_Meet me at courtyard after school. Don't let Antonio or Francis see you. If they try to talk to you, run as fast as you can._

Elizaveta lifted an eyebrow. Why didn't he want her to see his friends? She shrugged to herself and threw the cell phone back into her purse before striding down the hallways towards the courtyard. Maybe she could hunt down Antonio or Francis and strike a conversation with them just to annoy Gilbert. She decided against it; no, she was going to be the better person.

Elizaveta took a trip to her locker before exiting the school and into the courtyard. Round stone tables and benches were bathed in the sunlight and shadows of emerald trees. Bright tulips were planted on each side of the cobblestone sidewalk that branched out to each granite table. She sat herself down on a stone bench in the shade of the acacia tree. It was rather strange why Gilbert chose this place instead of the original agreement down at the football field.

It took Elizaveta five minutes to realize that Gilbert was late. She had spent that time absentmindedly tracing the carvings on the stone bench of vines on either side intertwining and blooming vibrant roses. After a while, her fingers were rubbed raw and Gilbert had not yet made an appearance.

"I think you just got stood up, Liza," Elizaveta muttered to herself. She crossed her arms snappily. Why, why, _why_ did she agree to help Gilbert in the first place? No doubt he was just teasing her and making her skip her nap for him. That idiot. That stupid—

The door swung open and Elizaveta's heart skipped a beat. Gilbert finally arrived at the doorway. But did he just walk in and sit down next to her like any other normal person? No, not at all. He poked his head out of the door and looked both ways like a spy and then dived to the ground and did a ninja roll before sliding onto the bench.

Elizaveta couldn't help but chuckle. She was still cross, but that was rather cute.

"Francis and Antonio wouldn't leave me alone," Gilbert said, smoothing down his white hair.

"Why'd you make me stay away from them?" Elizaveta asked.

"Because they can't keep a secret to save their life," Gilbert said breezily.

"Why would _they_ keep a secret?" said Elizaveta.

Gilbert winced. "Uh, you know—"

Elizaveta narrowed her eyes. "You think I'm not good at keeping secrets?"

Gilbert's red eyes widened and he cursed under his breath. "No, it's just—"

"Or are you trying to take all the credit? This was not part of the agreement—!"

"That's not it either!" Gilbert said quickly. "But they might let something slip to you and—forget it. I'm being paranoid." Gilbert stretched and closed his eyes. "It's been a rough day, okay?"

Gilbert remained quiet and still for a moment. Elizaveta knitted her eyebrows. She poked him in the face.

"Don't tell me you're falling asleep," Elizaveta said warningly.

"I'm not," Gilbert said, swatting her hand away. "My eyes just hurt from the sun. Let's talk."

"Whatever you say," Elizaveta sighed. She could pretend to beat him up or flick him off without him ever knowing if she really got furious with him. Besides, he looked sweetly calm and collected when he wasn't smirking or laughing.

"So. About girls," Gilbert started. "What do I do about them? They're so confusing and PMS-crazy, I don't know how to deal with them."

"Keep treating them that way and you never will," Elizaveta said sourly. "Just because someone is a girl doesn't mean that she is having her premenstrual cycle every time she's mad."

"Well, this girl is irrationally cranky," Gilbert pointed out. "Anything I say to her is like treading on a mine field."

"Why do you like her?" Elizaveta asked.

Gilbert smiled wryly. "Why? Want to steal me away from her?"

"Gilbert, I'm this close to shoving my pencil in your eye."

Gilbert chuckled. "In all honesty, I'm pretty sure that she won't show any of her redeeming qualities to me."

"Then why bother?" she asked.

"Because, when I see her from afar—" Gilbert chewed on the words, checking how they tasted before he finally spoke them. "When I see her with anyone that's not me, she's really…"

"Ah," Elizaveta said monotonously. "What's her name?"

"What are you trying to do? Stalk the poor girl?"

"Maybe I can give her a warning," Elizaveta smirked.

Gilbert stuck his tongue out at her. "Let's get down to business, okay? Or else those tapes of Antonio and Lovi are going to get destroyed."

Elizaveta gasped. "You wouldn't! Gilbert, those are priceless tapes!"

"Unlike you, I don't really enjoy them. I actually expected to have a whole hour of Lovino beating the crap out of Antonio when I first taped it," Gilbert told her.

"Fine. We'll start working." Elizaveta pulled out a pen and a notepad. "What's your budget?"

"My budget?" Gilbert wrinkled his nose. "I thought you said money was a bad way to woo someone."

"Yes, but if you really want to impress her, you'd make something for her, and the resources will cost money," Elizaveta explained testily.

"I don't even know what I'm making," Gilbert groaned.

"Well, tell me about this girl," Elizaveta ordered.

Gilbert's pale cheeks tinged a light pink. He scratched his hair awkwardly. "She's almost as awesome as I am. Almost." He turned to Elizaveta. "Are you writing this down?"

"Not until I get some useful information," said Elizaveta. "You're making this harder than it needs to be."

"She's really violent sometimes, and anything I do seems to piss her off—"

"What is she like when she's _not_ with you?" Elizaveta reworded the question.

"Hmph. Well, since she's no longer in my presence, her awesomeness will have to go down a couple levels," Gilbert admitted. "Though it's still higher than some particular people." He shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "She's like an older sister to everyone. And she has a horrible taste in men, because she used to date this pansy and wouldn't even look at me."

"Hmm," Elizaveta mumbled as she scribbled into her notepad.

"What are you writing?" Gilbert asked.

Elizaveta glanced at her companion. "How can you even tell when your eyes are closed?"

"I'm smart. I know you well enough. Don't doubt my powers."

Elizaveta rolled his eyes. "Just ideas."

"Let me see." Without waiting for Elizaveta to respond, Gilbert took the notebook from her hands and scanned the words, shading his eyes from the sunlight with his hand.

"'Decorate her car with roses and posters?'" he read out loud. "'Make her fortune cookies with the fortunes asking her out to the dance?'" He tossed the notebook into Elizaveta's face, who fumbled to catch it. "What kind of sappy ideas are those?"

"I'm trying my best here!" Elizaveta snapped. "You aren't doing anything productive! _I'm _the one who is truly asking this girl out!"

Gilbert burst out laughing. "That would be so awkward it would be hilarious."

"Gilbert," Elizaveta said warningly. She tapped his head with her pen. "Have you got any brains in that thick skull of yours?"

"Of course I do! Something has to contain my awesomeness." Gilbert yawned and stretched his arms. "Can we hurry up? I'm getting tired, and West has the car keys."

"We don't _have_ to be here!" Elizaveta barked. "I sure as heck don't have to be here! I'm trying to help you and you're just being this—this—augh!" She slammed the notepad onto his forehead.

"All right, all right!" Gilbert said brightly. "Don't twist your panties." He tapped his chin thoughtfully like a little boy. "Do you like those ideas?"

"What do you mean?" Elizaveta asked.

"If a guy did any of those ideas to you, would you fall head over heels for them?" Gilbert asked.

Elizaveta contemplated. "I don't know. I don't like fortune cookies and I hate getting my car messy, so probably not."

"Then scrap them," Gilbert ordered. Elizaveta raised her eyebrows.

"You know, I'm not the representative of the entire female population," she pointed out. "Some girls might like it."

"I doubt she will," said Gilbert. He turned to Elizaveta and opened his eyes. The whites of his eyes were slightly red due to the bright sunlight. He leaned in closer. "What would be your ideal way of being asked out?"

"Why me?" Elizaveta complained.

"This is one of those rare moments where I will actually consider your opinion, Eliza. Relish it," Gilbert said, smirking playfully.

"You have a point," Elizaveta sighed. "Well…I'd like it if they made something for me."

"You already said that," Gilbert reminded her.

"I'm building up to the climax," Elizaveta retorted. She scratched her chin before her eyes lit up with inspiration. "Well, I would like it if—" She turned towards Gilbert and suddenly realized he was very close to him. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she edged away from him. "Okay, picture…a dobos torte—"

"That's your favorite dessert, isn't it?" Gilbert asked. "A Hungarian sponge cake."

Elizaveta tilted her head. "Good memory."

"You used to give me some all the time when we were little," Gilbert said, shrugging. "Now, a dobos torte."

"Right," Elizaveta said. She was surprised Gilbert even remembered that it was her favorite dessert. She remembered the olden days when they were young and they would sometimes exchange sweets when they visited each other's house. Elizaveta would give Gilbert a slice of dobos torte whenever they afforded to buy one, and Gilbert would give her a schwarzwälder kirschtortehis mother used to make before she died. To think that there was ever a day that Gilbert was not obnoxious!

"So, there will be the torte, and on top of it will be two chocolate covered strawberries," Elizaveta said dreamily. "One would be dipped so it would look like it was wearing a tuxedo—"

"A strawberry wearing a _tux_?"

"It's cute!" Elizaveta shot at him. "And the other one will look like a dress!"

"Great idea. I'll go stop by at Banana Republic to pick up the outfits, and you arrange for them to be dry cleaned afterwards. Or would strawberries prefer Strawberry Republic?"

"Not real clothes, you idiot," Elizaveta hissed. "Dipped in chocolate. I've seen it on the internet a couple times. People use milk chocolate and white chocolate."

"You use the internet for more than just yaoi fantasies?" Gilbert put a pale hand to his mouth, his eyes wide in feign surprise.

"Indeed; I even search up advice on how to murder annoying Prussians and get away with it," Elizaveta grumbled.

"You must get zero results, because that's impossible," Gilbert grinned cheekily.

"Oh, there's a time for everything," Elizaveta said darkly.

Gilbert shrugged. "All right-y then. That sounds like a good idea. Let's do it."

"Wait—you actually are agreeing to it?" Elizaveta exclaimed disbelievingly. "What happened to your ego for your flawless super-awesome strategies?"

"They're taking a break. I don't know," Gilbert said dismissively. "But the dobos torte and strawberry thing sounds good. Are you sure you like it?"

"Yes," Elizaveta admitted, frowning. "But what do I matter in this? You're not asking me out."

Gilbert gnawed on his lip, staring out into space. "Well, it's a good idea, so I'm sure any girl would fall for it, ja?"

"Sure," Elizaveta said unsurely. "You don't even know how to make a dobos torte, though."

"Sweetie, that's what the internet is for. It doesn't only have gay porn on it."

He received a nice slap in the face with a heavy AP Euro textbook. He batted the book away.

"Anything but that book! I torture myself with that thing on my own already!" Gilbert complained. "Don't you have the recipe?"

"Why would you think I had the recipe?" Elizaveta asked.

"You're Hungarian," Gilbert said simply.

"Oh, is that it?" Elizaveta said sardonically. "And do you have every wurst recipe that ever existed in Germany?"

"Yup, thanks to West," Gilbert said proudly. "Besides, remember back when we were young'uns? You gave me a slice of that chocolate caramel cake whenever you had any in your house."

"It was store bought," Elizaveta confessed embarrassedly. "I never made it in my life."

Gilbert gaped at her. "Are you kidding me? This whole time, I thought you had made that torte with love and friendship, but in truth you were feeding me lies! Literally and figuratively!"

"I never said I made it," Elizaveta snapped, her cheeks reddening. "Not everyone has a mother who can make desserts."

Gilbert smiled wearily. "Yeah, my mother was pretty awesome, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Elizaveta admitted softly. She felt guilty for bringing up Gilbert and Ludwig's mother. She had died only two years ago, the same time Gilbert's grandfather Old Fritz passed away.

"So, let's see," Gilbert said, pressing his slender fingertips together. "There's caramel in the cake, right? I'll grab about a pound of those caramel candies in the store, and maybe a bar of Hershey's for the chocolate part."

"What?" Elizaveta said quickly. "No—_not _caramel candies. Never caramel candies!"

"Why not? They're caramel!" Gilbert protested.

"They're only caramel flavored! It's practically plastic!" Elizaveta cried out. "Look—how much does this girl mean to you?"

"A lot!" Gilbert blurted out. He stiffened at his own answer and quickly turned away from Elizaveta.

"All right," Elizaveta said, perplexedly. "Anyways, do you want to give her low-quality, disgusting, half-hearted work?"

"I guess not," Gilbert said.

"Then don't get the caramel candies. Or Hershey's Chocolate. You need proper material."

Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows. "Then…how do I get caramel? Is it in a can or something?"

Elizaveta stared at Gilbert. "You get caramel by burning, sugar, you idiot."

"Really?" Gilbert exclaimed, absolutely surprised. Elizaveta slapped her forehead.

"You, my boy, don't know the slightest basics about cooking," Elizaveta groaned. "You're going to poison this girl!"

"I'm not bad at cooking!" Gilbert protested. "Are _you_ any better? Huh? Huh?"

"I most certainly am!" Elizaveta hurled at him. Gilbert leaned back in his bench, crossing his legs and smirking.

"Oh? Then we'll see about that," Gilbert said playfully. "I'll make this dobos torte and when you—I mean, when that girl sees it and takes the first bite, she'll be in seventh heaven and I will laugh in her—your face because I will succeed!"

Elizaveta narrowed her eyes. Suspicion crept in the back of her mind but she dismissed it. It was strange to see Gilbert so passionate about a person other than himself. It was somewhat unfamiliar and provoked her curiosity.

"Do you really like her?" Elizaveta asked. "I don't want you taking her out to the dance and then stomping on her heart right afterwards. Do you really care for her?"

Gilbert's hollow cheeks blushed. He gazed into Elizaveta's calculating green eyes and exhaled heavily.

"Of course," he said with finality.

Something tugged at Elizaveta's heartstrings. She scratched her chest inconspicuously, surprised at the strange twang inside of her. It sort of hurt a little, but she wasn't sure why.

Who was this mystery girl anyways? The one that apparently stole Gilbert's heart and wiped away a good portion of his ego? Elizaveta frowned slightly. What if this girl was bad for Gilbert? What if she was some slut that would only go for Gilbert for his looks and then crush _his _heart afterwards? Before, Elizaveta would've gladly given flowers to any person who would do such a thing, but now…now it seemed that Gilbert was vulnerable with affection, something she thought she would never see.

Not to mention, Gilbert seemed _extremely_ serious about this girl.

"I want to help," she said automatically.

Gilbert jolted with shock. He nearly fell off the bench.

"You…you _what?" _

"I am going to help shop for supplies and make the dobos torte," Elizaveta said firmly.

"No!" Gilbert said quickly. Elizaveta raised her eyebrow. Gilbert clenched his teeth in frustration. He plucked acacia leaves off the tree and started shredding them absentmindedly. "I'll be fine by myself. I can do anything. I won't mess up a stupid torte."

"I beg to differ," Elizaveta said loftily. "Hungarian desserts require more than just robotic instructions."

"If I can make a schwarzwälder kirschtorte, I can deal with a dobos torte," Gilbert retorted. "Some _Hungarian_ dessert isn't going to beat me."

"Gilbert, I'm quite sure that there's a difference between a Black Forest Torte and a dobos torte," Elizaveta said. "Must I remind you of the first time you ever attempted a Black Forest Torte? You nearly poisoned Ludwig."

Gilbert chuckled. "That was so much fun. But you've got to admit, it was a pretty good job for a four-year-old." He shook his head and returned to business. "You aren't expecting more funny videos, are you? I'm not going to force West to jump his little Italian friend, if that's what you're desperate for."

"I'm not," Elizaveta said, though it was no secret that she _really, really _wanted to see Ludwig and Feliciano finally admit their love to each other. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to see you do something for another person. It's a chance I'm not going to miss." And it gave her a lot of time to pester him to death about who he wanted to ask out.

"I'm serious, Eliza," Gilbert said. "I don't want your help."

"Why?" Elizaveta snapped. "Do you think I'm incompetent?"

"No! But what will the girl say when she realizes that I had help making this? That it wasn't created by pure Gilbert awesomeness?"

"She won't find out," Elizaveta groaned exasperatedly.

"Vertrauen Sie mir; sie wird," Gilbert muttered in his native tongue.

Elizaveta squinted skeptically at him. "You know, if you don't agree, that's all good. I'll just go to Antonio or Francis and badger them to tell me who the lucky girl is. Then I can give her a warning."

Gilbert fell out of the bench another time. He frantically jumped to his feet and quickly shook Elizaveta's hand.

"Fine, fine! It's a deal! Just don't talk to those two!" Gilbert said wildly.

Elizaveta flashed a mischievous grin. This was proving to be a very good advantage for her.

"Great!" she said perkily. "How about tomorrow after school? It's a Thursday. When do you want to give her the torte?"

"Friday would be good," Gilbert said, biting the corner of his lip. "That way, by the weekend I'll know if I have a date with her or a date with the Playstation for the dance. So, I guess we buy the stuff after school and then make it right afterwards?"

"Sounds like a plan. The blasted teachers put all the tests for tomorrow, so they won't assign homework, hopefully," Elizaveta pointed out. She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders and stood up, brushing acacia leaves out of her hair. "Thank goodness the AP European History test will be easy, but I have to study for physics. I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Right-io," Gilbert said lightly. Elizaveta grinned and hurried out of the courtyard. Once she was out of earshot, Gilbert groaned and leaned back, running his hands through his pale hair. The only thing that ran through his head was the sound of impending doom.

"Verdammt," he muttered to himself. "Das wird schwer."

**I originally was not going to publish this chapter until Thursday, but I just _had_ to do something for Prussia's birthday. Happy Birthday, Prussia!!!**

**A dobos torte is a Hungarian dessert that is a spongecake with caramel and chocolate buttercream. Sounds yummy enough. And if you guys haven't caught it, Gilbert's _schwarzwälder kirschtorte _is a Black Forest Torte. It originated from Germany.**

**So…reverting back to real life situations…I am not too sure how the exchange between my sister and The Dude went, but it certainly wasn't in a courtyard. My sister actually did offer the idea of fortune cookies with the fortunes asking the girl out. In the end, she decided on chocolate covered strawberries in tuxedos and a strawberry**** shortcake. **

**Then when it was time to go shopping for supplies, two other girls and I were roped into this…and thus started an extremely epic weekend of fails and more fails. **

**By the way—I sort of doubt that an acacia tree would be able to exist anywhere outside of its natural habitat (Africa-ish?) but the acacia tree symbolizes something that I COULDN'T let pass. It was just too good. So for the sake of the story, please pretend that acacia trees can grow anywhere…**

**I really hope I got the characters in character. If you have any friendly advice, please give it to me!**

**By the way…I got the German from a translator, so it probably isn't accurate. If you put in the translator, you might be confused because I doubt it conjugates very well…**


	3. The Gilbert Mobile

**(Hola chicos y chicas. This is a test update.) **

Elizaveta yawned, rubbing her temples. This day was packed with tests and reports and everything else that makes school so lovable. She had nearly forgotten to meet Gilbert at his locker when school finally let out.

Well, wherever that boy was, he was late again. What was his last class of the day? That was right; AP Calculus, where they were taking a gigantic test. It wouldn't be surprising if he had to stay back to finish; almost every student who took that class needed to take up extra time to finish the teacher's tests.

"Liza~!"

Elizaveta turned to see Antonio ambling towards her, wearing his trademark sunny smile. Elizaveta remembered Gilbert's warning of avoiding Antonio and Francis, but Antonio was just too darn friendly to ignore.

"Hi, Antonio!" Elizaveta said warmly. "How is everything?"

"Muy bien, gracias," he replied. "I'm getting ready to ask Lovi to the dance."

"Really?" Elizaveta gasped excitedly. "Ooh, tell me how that goes!"

"Of course!" Antonio said. "By the way…" His smile stretched into something a tad more mischievous than Elizaveta expected. "Do you have a date to the dance?"

"Nope," Elizaveta said. "I probably won't go, considering no one is asking me. And Roderich has to leave town, so we can't go as friends or anything."

"Aw, that's too bad," Antonio sighed, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. "Ever considered taking other friends?"

"You mean, my girl friends?" Elizaveta asked.

"No, I mean boys," Antonio corrected. "Maybe Arthur or Alfred or…" he lowered his voice and his grin broadened. "Gilbert?"

"Speaking of Gilbert," Elizaveta said slyly. "Do you know who he's dying to go out with?"

Antonio looked slightly surprised. "How do you know he wants to ask someone out?"

"He told me," Elizaveta said. She grinned. "Please, Antonio? I really, really want to know?"

Antonio cracked an innocent smile. "Gilbert isn't very good at keeping secrets, I see."

"Why would he need to keep it secret from me?" Elizaveta asked. "I'm his closest girl friend."

"Interesting choice of words, mi amigo," Antonio chuckled.

"Huh?" Elizaveta frowned. She pushed that aside. "Antonio, Gilbert won't tell me a thing."

"And for a good reason," Antonio said.

"And why's that?" Elizaveta pressed on. "Do I know her? Maybe it's a girl he thinks I'll never want him to date. Either way, he won't spill."

"Perhaps it's because girls are naturally gossipy," Antonio suggested.

"You know, Antonio," Elizaveta said sweetly. "I have this _lovely_ video of you and Lovino in Gilbert's house." Well, as of now she didn't, but she would later. "It's quite juicy, if you know what I mean."

Antonio raised his eyebrows in shock. "That was your video camera? I thought it was just there for decoration!"

"Of course not!" Elizaveta laughed. "It was very entertaining; perhaps the rest of the school body would love to see it too…?"

"Or maybe not," Antonio said quickly. "But I am sworn to secrecy."

"I'm not," Elizaveta said. "Lovino wouldn't be very happy if he found out about the tape."

"Es verdad," Antonio mumbled. "But Gilbert would have it if I spilled, since the girl is—"

"Antonio!" Gilbert's voice shouted before Antonio could say another word. Antonio turned towards his best friend. Gilbert was running towards him, an anxious expression on his face.

"You better catch Lovino quick!" he said. "I saw him getting ready to go home with Feliciano; they're heading towards the car right now!"

"¡Mala suerte!" Antonio exclaimed. "Adios, Elizaveta. I must catch my Lovi!" He dashed off as fast as lightning, singing Lovino's name over and over again. Elizaveta felt her heart sank. She was so close to making Antonio spill, but Gilbert _had_ to step in. She'll have to make him pay later.

When Antonio's voice faded, Gilbert chuckled and leaned on the lockers. "Good ol' chap. That's one thing I love about him; he's so gullible."

"You lied to him?" Elizaveta said with disbelief. "What for?"

"Hey, if it wasn't for me, he would probably completely forget about asking Lovi out," Gilbert said defensively. He wrenched his locker open and threw in his unneeded textbooks and notebooks. "And I told you not to associate yourself with Antonio. His tongue runs faster than a cheetah and he doesn't even notice it."

"He wasn't trying to pry anything out of me," Elizaveta said. "He was just asking me who I was going to the dance with."

Gilbert groaned and leaned his forehead on the door of his locker. "_Depp! Depp! Depp!"_

"Don't call Antonio an idiot," Elizaveta scolded, recognizing the German insult. "Why are you so worked up about that anyways?"

Gilbert chewed the inside of his cheek. "Meh. Whatever. Hurry up, let's go before all the good ingredients run out!" He grabbed Elizaveta's hand and pulled her behind him as he sprinted through the hallways.

"Gilbert! Stop running!" Elizaveta snapped. Their shoes clacked loudly through the linoleum corridor. "Gilbert! I'm wearing high heels!"

"Sucks to be you!" Gilbert laughed. Elizaveta stumbled over her shoes, nearly dragging both of them to the ground. Gilbert immediately halted, grabbing Elizaveta's arms to study her.

"Seriously, why do girls want to wear those daggers?" Gilbert said. He quickly pulled Elizaveta onto her back, carrying her piggy-back style before running down the hallways again.

"Gilbert!" Elizaveta screeched. "What the heck? The store isn't going to close in five minutes if we don't get there in time!"

"Some other lovesick boy might steal all the good stuff before we do!" Gilbert replied, laughing as he occasionally took a sharp turn, making Elizaveta clutch Gilbert's neck tightly and gasp with fear. The pair attracted many confused stares from other students, and many giggles from Elizaveta's female classmates. She shot a death glare at all of them, silencing them immediately.

"To the Gilbert-mobile!" Gilbert cheered loudly as he skidded through the hallways. Elizaveta was nearly choking Gilbert by now; her nails dug into his pale skin like pincers.

They burst through the glass doors of the school that led out to the student parking lot. Gilbert made airplane noises as he dodged the cars, absolutely oblivious to the fact that Elizaveta was piercing his neck.

"Here we are!" Gilbert sang as he slowed down, jogging towards his midnight blue car. He let Elizaveta slide off his back, dusting his hands off and wrenching the doors open.

"Was all that necessary?" Elizaveta wheezed, flattening her hair.

"Of course! Who knows how long it'll take us to make this dobos torte?" Gilbert pointed out.

"Fine, fine," Elizaveta sighed. "Do you have the recipe?"

Gilbert frowned. "Recipe? Why do we need the recipe?"

Elizaveta stared at him. "To know what to buy! Gilbert, did you think this through at all and prepare?"

"I brought money, but why the heck do I need the recipe?" Gilbert cried out.

Elizaveta growled. "You're hopeless! Now we have to go back and print out the recipe to find the ingredients so we can buy them—"

"Ingredients?" Gilbert repeated. "I have the ingredients written down in my planner."

"Why did you say you didn't have them?" Elizaveta inquired.

"You asked about the recipe! Like hell I have the recipe; I only need to know what ingredients I need to buy! Why would I bother writing down the whole recipe?"

Elizaveta kicked the tires of Gilbert's car. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Difficult? I have the ingredients we need to buy! How is that being difficult?" Gilbert demanded.

"Never mind," Elizaveta muttered, climbing into the passenger seat of his car. "Let's go before one of us kills the other."

Gilbert shrugged and slipped inside into the driver's seat. As he shut the door and rolled down the windows, he spotted Francis a little ways off with Antonio. Francis saw Gilbert and started waving his arms frantically.

"_Lui avez-vous demandé?_" Francis shouted. Gilbert's grip on the steering wheel tensed. "_A-t-elle dit 'oui?_'"

"_Halt die schnauze!_" Gilbert hollered back at them. He fiercely rolled up the windows again while Antonio and Francis were laughing so hard they were clutching their stomachs and each other. Elizaveta raised her eyebrow.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Francis and Antonio being the best friends anyone can ever have," Gilbert muttered, steering the car out of the driveway. "So how'd you think of the Calc test? I totally aced that thing."

"Don't talk about school," Elizaveta moaned. "I am completely brain dead right now."

"You can sleep on the way there if you'd like," Gilbert offered.

"I'm fine," Elizaveta sighed. "I'm just glad we have no homework. Do you know anyone else who is going to the dance?"

"Hmm," Gilbert said thoughtfully. "Considering the good mood Antonio is in, I'm guessing that he managed to score Lovino as a date. Either that or he's too oblivious to realize he got rejected. Either way, he'll go. Francis is going too, but he's not going to anchor himself to a date." Gilbert scratched his chin. "Feliciano is practically begging West to go with him, and West is too much of a pushover to say no."

Elizaveta couldn't help but grin. She was still anticipating the moment when Ludwig would finally proclaim his love for Feliciano and satisfy her cravings for yaoi. Gilbert spotted her smile through the rearview mirror and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I see that evil smile of yours," he said warningly. "Don't even get your hopes up. A passion fruit has more passion than West does; he won't be getting down with Feli any time soon."

"That's what you think," Elizaveta mumbled. Maybe some matchmaking and a couple adorable cosplay for Feliciano could do the trick.

"In your dreams," Gilbert chuckled as he pulled the car into the grocery store parking lot. "Here we go! Let's roll!"

"This isn't mission impossible," Elizaveta chuckled.

"Of course it isn't, because nothing's impossible for me!" Gilbert said. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Mind you, we have practically no sweet stuff in our house."

"That's horrible," Elizaveta sighed. They entered the brightly lit grocery store, packed with all types of foodstuff imaginable.

"Maybe you should get her flowers," Elizaveta commented as Gilbert fetched a shopping cart. She eyed the large bouquets of assorted flowers on display by the cashiers.

"I only have so much cash," said Gilbert, riding on the shopping cart. "Let's go find some sugar to burn!"

"Just call it caramel," Elizaveta told him, taking the ingredients list from him. "You should have flour, right? Butter, eggs, vanilla extract…it's mostly the chocolate and strawberries we're worried about. And maybe a pan to carry the cake in."

"I've got old takeout boxes from the past; we can use those," Gilbert added.

"Well then, I guess we won't need to buy so much. Don't even think about it." She dragged Gilbert far away from the German beer section. "The last thing any girl wants is a drunken dance partner."

"Fine," pouted Gilbert. His face immediately brightened. "Whoah! Cool! Look at this, Eliza!" He rushed over to the cheese display, where a sculpture of cheese in the shape of The Thinker was shown off behind glass. "It's The Thinker! Made of _cheese_!"

"Yes, yes, I see that," Elizaveta said quickly. "Gil, I want to go home as soon as possible, so let's speed this up."

"What would you do if someone asked you out with a cheese statue?" Gilbert asked excitedly.

"I'd suspect it was Francis and throw a cheese board at him," Elizaveta said simply, dragging Gilbert away from the fascinating work of art. "Here—let's get some strawberries."

She picked up a large box of fat strawberries, scrutinizing them carefully. "These look about right. Use these."

"Why do we need that many?" Gilbert cried. "She can't finish a whole dobos torte and a giant box of chocolate covered strawberries!"

"You'd be surprised," Elizaveta said bluntly. "Don't doubt the eating abilities of girls."

"How can girls eat so much and still stay skinny?" Gilbert muttered, eying a smaller box of strawberries.

"Well, at least you're better than some boys," Elizaveta sighed. "Besides, you're going to mess up the first dipped strawberries, so we'll need plenty of back-up."

"I won't mess up!" Gilbert said, affronted.

"You don't even know how they look like."

"Well, I'll take one look and then I'll be able to make it! I'm skilled that way!"

"You're going to eat your words," Elizaveta said dangerously. "Figuratively and literally. We're eating the mess-ups."

"Yes! Food!" Gilbert cheered, pumping his fists. Elizaveta shook her head and tossed the large box of strawberries into the cart. "Now we need…chocolate, right? Lots of chocolate. Oh yeah, I'm going to make her diabetic!"

"Don't shout," Elizaveta scolded, kicking him in the shin. "And don't think of it that way. Chocolate every now and then won't kill anyone."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Gilbert said. "Here—stand here." He led Elizaveta to the front of the cart and made her stand on the metal rung above the wheels. She clutched onto the edge of the cart behind her.

"What are you doing?" Elizaveta demanded. Before she could even think of jumping off, Gilbert hurried to the other side of the cart and launched them both away from the produce section. The cart sped through the aisles as Gilbert rode on the cart like a scooter. Elizaveta screeched at Gilbert as they zoomed through the aisles, nearly crashing into shelves of pasta or bags of potatoes.

"Gilbert, STOP RIGHT NOW!" Elizaveta howled.

"But it's fun!" Gilbert sang as he pushed the cart even faster. Elizaveta was forced to stay on board; jumping off would mean being steamrolled over by the Gilbert-mobile.

"We're going to get kicked out of the store!" she cried as elderly women cast confused and disapproving glances at the young hooligans.

"Here we are!" Gilbert said. He dragged his feet on the floor to quickly stop the cart. Elizaveta nearly fell over from the sudden stop. Her heart beat wildly as she stumbled off the cart.

"You've got to admit, that was super fun," Gilbert urged her.

"Next time, we're taking a basket," Elizaveta muttered. "I'm so glad you're paying me for this. That tape better be good."

"I watched it already," Gilbert said, wrinkling his nose. "I can't believe you even like that kind of stuff."

"Well, you must tolerate it enough to have watched it in the first place," Elizaveta said teasingly.

"Of course not!" Gilbert declared, grimacing. "Ew, no! I was expecting Lovino to beat Antonio up, and instead—oh God—" He shuddered. "You'll know what I mean when you see one of your friends—you know."

Elizaveta giggled. Gilbert was rather funny when he was uncomfortable. "Well, I'm excited now. Come on, let's get the chocolate."

"I need ten ounces of chocolate," Gilbert read off the paper. "Make that a bit more, because the strawberries have to be dressed to the nines."

"Will this work?" Elizaveta asked, pulling out a large back of Ghiradelli chocolate pieces. Gilbert blanched at the fancy chocolate.

"What's wrong with a cheaper chocolate?" he demanded.

"This is elegant," Elizaveta said.

"Who cares? I'm sure the strawberries don't care what company their clothes come from."

"There's probably a huge taste difference," argued Elizaveta. "Don't you want to give her the best?"

"Well, _yeah_, but the best doesn't have to be the most expensive!" Gilbert protested. "I'm a poor student. I can't afford Swiss chocolate specialties whenever I want them!"

"You have enough money to get a nice car," Elizaveta pointed out.

"You just want to bleed me dry, don't you?" accused Gilbert. "Besides, the car took years and years of saving."

"I think it's a better choice," Elizaveta said stubbornly, weighing the large, pricey bag in one hand.

Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you really like it?"

"I guess, why?" Elizaveta asked, frowning.

Gilbert sighed and snatched the chocolate from her hand, throwing it into the cart. "Fine. We'll take it. You're the downfall of me."

Elizaveta stared confusedly at Gilbert. Why did he always take her word as law? He hadn't considered her opinion very high before.

"Wow, you really like this girl," Elizaveta commented.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't do all this for her," Gilbert said frankly.

"So I take it this isn't just to score a date for the dance, then?" Elizaveta asked.

"No," Gilbert admitted, searching for a bag of white chocolate pieces. "The way you talk, Eliza, I swear, you think I'm just there for the lust."

"I don't think that," Elizaveta said hotly. She watched as Gilbert weighed two separate bags of white chocolate in both hands, contemplating.

"What's her name, anyways?" Elizaveta asked.

"That's a secret," Gilbert said. Elizaveta knitted her eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to say just yet," Gilbert said.

"Since when did you keep secrets from me?" Elizaveta demanded. "Gilbert, it's _me_, of all people. When we were younger we used to sit on my porch and talk smack about—about anything! Girls, professional sports, aliens, the boogieman under your bed—come on, even then you didn't keep secrets!"

"Well, now that we're older, a brand new story unfolds," Gilbert smirked. "A tad bit different from the first one, if you know what I mean. Secrets make the world go round."

"Fine." Elizaveta sighed, running a hand through her long hair. "I guess it's time to guess. What does she look like?"

Gilbert took a sidelong glance at Elizaveta before turning his back towards her. "She's lovely."

"Lovely?" Elizaveta asked. "Not 'drop-dead-super-foxy-hot?'"

"No," Gilbert muttered.

"Not even 'burning-mega-fiery-sexy?'"

"Are you _sure_ you don't think I'm shallow?" said Gilbert.

"I'm just checking," Elizaveta said. She took one of the bags of white chocolate from Gilbert and tossed it into the cart. "Just take one, seriously. It doesn't matter which one has more or not." She stole a glance at Gilbert. "What do you mean by lovely?"

"She's awesome, like me, but not in a sharp, gaudy way with looks and all," Gilbert said. "I mean, she's pretty, but that's not the only thing that makes her lovely. Until she comes around me, then she grows horns, but they're kind of cute."

Elizaveta felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She never imagined Gilbert talking about a girl in such an affectionate way and it made her feel—no, it couldn't be. Of course it wasn't jealousy. What a foolish suggestion!

"How long have you known her?" Elizaveta asked as they got in line for the cashier.

"Hmm, tough question," Gilbert said, balancing on the bottom rung under the cart. "A really long time. I've known her practically my whole life, but I haven't felt this way for her until a lot later."

Elizaveta searched her mind for any memory of Gilbert having other female playmates. She had been his best friend since the beginning of their lives, and she couldn't remember him playing with other children, much less other girls. She supposed that she wasn't hanging onto Gilbert every living second of his life, so it was possible he found other girls. Though she always thought she was his closest friend. She clenched her teeth.

"What would you think if I was suddenly whisked way by another girl?" Gilbert suddenly asked. Elizaveta jolted out of her concentration.

"Maybe for once you'd finally leave me alone," she laughed. "Though I don't know if that's even possible."

"Who knows?" Gilbert said saucily. "If this works, maybe I'll be so absorbed with this girl that I'll never think about you again. And you'll finally have the peace and quiet you always begged to have."

Elizaveta felt uncomfortable. The thought of a faceless, nameless girl clinging on Gilbert made her feel distressed. It didn't seem right at all.

"Maybe I'll even calm down a bit," Gilbert continued, grinning as the long line trudged on. "And I won't be as awesome and bold anymore. What then? You always complained about my awe-inspiring qualities."

"Don't," Elizaveta suddenly said quickly. She shook her head; she only saw Gilbert calm and quiet one time in her life, and that was when his mother and Old Fritz had passed away. It nearly destroyed him and broke her heart. "Then it wouldn't be you anymore. It would be some stranger I don't know."

"Oh, so you actually like the amazing me, then?" Gilbert said, his grin nearly splitting his cheeks.

"Don't—don't get any ideas," Elizaveta said hurriedly, blushing. "I like it when—" She felt her skin grow hot. She glanced around wildly for any interruption, any way to end this conversation. She spotted the bakery section right next to the cashiers.

"I'm getting a doughnut," she announced.

"You brought money with you?" Gilbert asked.

"No," Elizaveta said. "You're paying for me."

"Wait—what?" Gilbert cried out. "No way! I only have so much money! This Ghiradelli is expensive!"

"You didn't have to buy it just because I liked it," Elizaveta said, smirking. Before Gilbert could protest any further, she ran off. She let out a sigh of relief as she reached the doughnut display case. Thank goodness the conversation was veered off to a different subject. She rubbed her still-warm cheeks and cast a quick glance back at Gilbert. She was telling the truth; despite the countless headaches Gilbert's ego and loudness gave her, a silent and collected Gilbert was not what she would ever want. As she grabbed a chocolate glazed custard-filled doughnut from behind its glass door, she grudgingly admitted to herself that she…liked Gilbert the way he was. She had already tasted a softer version of Gilbert, and even just thinking about it now made her heart twang.

"I can't believe you," Gilbert muttered as he reluctantly paid for her dessert. Elizaveta grinned and bit into the much craved sweet. Sweet, cool cream and warm chocolate spilled out of the bite mark and smeared on her chin and cheek.

"Never deny a girl her junk food," Elizaveta advised. Gilbert scowled and wiped the cream away from Elizaveta's face with his finger. He sucked the custard off and raised his eyebrows.

"Nom!" he shouted before diving down and stealing a bite from the doughnut. Elizaveta shouted and hit his head, but he was successful. He chewed his stolen treat, a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

"You're horrible," Elizaveta growled as Gilbert threw the groceries in the back seat of the car.

"Horribly awesome," Gilbert corrected. He shrugged. "It was good, but they shouldn't charge you a buck for it." They climbed into the car. Gilbert rubbed his hands eagerly.

"All righty then!" he said excitedly as the car roared with life. "Let's go to hell's kitchen!"

Elizaveta thought nothing of that comment. She had soon realized that calling it 'hell's kitchen' was an understatement.

**I made a reference to a song in this chapter. The first person able to guess the song correctly can request a noun that will appear in the next chapter. It can be anything. A football. A dolphin. A guillotine. I'll have to find a way to incorporate it in the chapter. **

**True story: The Dude bought us all doughnuts. Cream-filled, chocolate covered doughnuts. We forced him to, though, because we grabbed the doughnuts out of the case before he had the chance to say no, and we couldn't put them back. **

**By the way, 'Depp' in Germany means 'idiot.' So Johnny Depp's name in German is 'Johnny Idiot.' That would be great for vacations in Germany. Hello, what's your name? My name's Johnny Depp, hey, why are you laughing…?**

**As for the stuff Francis and Gilbert say in French and German…I might spoil too much if I tell you what I intended for them to say (winks). Don't bother with a translator; it's completely botched up. **


	4. Hell's Kitchen

"—and the whole time Feliciano thought that we meant Antonio and Lovi were making spoons," Gilbert chuckled as they barged through his front door. Elizaveta laughed for the umpteenth time until her stomach muscles ached. "I swear, that kid is as naïve as a nun."

"He's so adorable!" Elizaveta gushed, kicking off her high heels. "I'm serious, Gilbert, you should totally help me pair him up with Ludwig. Everyone knows how close they are."

"West is hopeless. He'd even bring an instruction book to bed if he could," Gilbert scorned as they entered the kitchen. He dropped the groceries onto the kitchen island and threw out his arms. "Tada! Welcome to the lair of the great Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

"I can't believe it's clean," Elizaveta admitted. She hadn't been inside Gilbert's house for two years, since his family's funeral. Though the atmosphere felt a little emptier than usual, it was generally the same. She used to visit Gilbert all the time when they were little; she probably could find all the things in his house if she needed to.

"West probably did some cleaning before he went out with Feliciano and Kiku," Gilbert said. "Bless his soul. Too bad he forgot that I'm going to invade this region."

"The poor boy. All his hard work, too," Elizaveta mourned.

"We can regret this later. Speaking of regret, I'm giving you once chance." He lifted his index finger and waved it in front of Elizaveta's face. "You can run away now and let me be independent. You know you don't have to make this with me."

"Why are you so eager to kick me out?" Elizaveta demanded.

"Because it would be easier to win a girl's heart if I did the work myself," Gilbert replied.

"I'm sure Ludwig would appreciate it if there was someone making sure you didn't blow up the kitchen," Elizaveta joked.

"If that was the case, he would've stayed home. You do know that I have no more of your kinky sex tapes, right?"

"I know," Elizaveta said. "I'm not changing my mind."

"Say that again in the next half hour. Now, should we make the strawberries first or the cake?"

"Get the recipe and we'll see," instructed Elizaveta. Gilbert grabbed his laptop from the living room and quickly typed up a recipe for dobos tortes.

"Hey there, Gilbird!" Gilbert greeted his pet chick. It was nestled in the fruit bowl, trying to disguise as a fluffy yellow orange. He offered a hand to the small bird; it perched onto his finger. "Meet Elizaveta. You weren't even born when I first met her, were you? Of course not."

"Cute name," Elizaveta laughed. She patted the downy fluff. "He's so adorable. I wish he'll stay a chick forever."

"Yeah, the only good thing about chickens is that you can eat them," Gilbert said as he searched for a proper dobos torte recipe.

"Let's do this one!" Gilbert clicked on a link to a recipe for the Hungarian dessert.

"How do you know that's the best one there is?" Elizaveta asked.

"Pssht. Anything I make will be the best," Gilbert said. He set the bird back down in the fruit bowl.

"Let's go with the strawberries first," Elizaveta suggested. "The white chocolate has to harden before we dip the berries with milk chocolate, so baking the torte would give it time to set."

"Sweet," Gilbert commented as he snipped open a bag of white chocolate with scissors. "So how do we melt it?"

Elizaveta sighed. "You see what could've happened if I wasn't here to help you?" She took the white chocolate and poured it into a bowl. "I guess it'll be like melting milk chocolate. I've done that before. You can put the bowl into a pot full of boiling water and then wait for it to melt."

Gilbert filled a small pot with water and placed it on the stove. Elizaveta gingerly placed the bowl full of white chocolate pieces into the water and turned on the heat.

"Wash the strawberries," she ordered.

Gilbert dumped the strawberries into a strainer and ran it over with cold water. "Did you know that white chocolate really isn't chocolate? It's sugar…or something like that."

"So long as it tastes all right, no one really cares if it isn't chocolate," Elizaveta answered, prodding the stubborn chocolate with a spoon.

"Is it done yet?"

"Gilbert, it's only been on the stove for about three minutes. The water isn't even boiling yet."

Gilbert groaned. "This will take fore-e-ever!"

"Patience, young grasshopper." Elizaveta tied her long hair back. "You talk like you've never cooked in your life."

"Of course I have! The schwarzwälder kirschtorte, remember? The one you practically inhaled when I gave some to you."

"I never said you didn't," Elizaveta pointed out. She sighed at the memory of the delicious Black Forest torte. "I haven't had that in years! What was it…five? Four, maybe?"

"I don't know," Gilbert said. "It's been a long time since there was one even in the house."

"Why don't you make it yourself?" Elizaveta asked. "You know how."

"Yeah, but…it won't _be_ the same," Gilbert complained. "Because all the other times, Mama would make it with me, and we would always give some to you and West, so it feels like we're making a gift together. West doesn't eat sweets anymore, and if I make it for myself, it's not the same." He shrugged. "Besides, Mama always put a secret ingredient in it, and I can't really do that."

"I see," Elizaveta said quietly. She cleared her throat. "Maybe you should start with the dobos torte first. This chocolate would take a while. What are the first instructions?"

Gilbert peeked at the laptop screen. "'For the cake: Heat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs, then flour and vanilla until smooth.'"

"Go do that," Elizaveta ordered, preheating the oven to three hundred and fifty degrees. Gilbert pulled a large bowl out of the cupboard and ran around the kitchen looking for the butter and sugar.

It took a couple minutes for Elizaveta to realize that the chocolate was nowhere near melting into a smooth mixture at all.

"Does this look sort of clumpy to you?" Elizaveta asked worriedly as Gilbert was creaming the butter and sugar.

Gilbert peered over Elizaveta's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "It looks like curdled cheese."

"Exactly! I don't know what went wrong!" Elizaveta cried. "Maybe I have to turn the heat up a bit more?"

"It looks harder than it was before!" Gilbert laughed as Elizaveta hurriedly turned up the heat. "On the bright side, I guess it's a bit…spreadable. Try adding some water in it to give it some liquid."

"That sounds reasonable," Elizaveta greed. She splashed a couple spoonfuls of water into the mixture and stood before the stove, staring at the chocolate.

But what did they know about cooking?

"Gilbert, I think it's getting worse!" Elizaveta cried, her voice rising over the loud whirring of the electric mixer. The white chocolate was as lumpy as ever, with the texture of crudely ground peanut butter.

"Uh…" Gilbert took a strawberry by the stem and prodded the chocolate with it. "Yeah. It isn't going to stick."

"I figured that much out myself, thanks!" Elizaveta snapped. She rubbed her eyes with frustration. "I don't understand, though! Any other chocolate would melt fine like this!"

"Here," Gilbert said, handing Elizaveta the eggs and the mixer. When Elizaveta stared at it perplexedly, he said hastily, "Just beat it!" He quickly typed on the laptop, searching up advice on how to melt white chocolate.

"Let's see what the baby says," he muttered. "Here we go!" He burst out laughing.

"What is it?" Elizaveta demanded, cracking an egg into the mixture.

"The website says, 'Never allow any water to come in contact with the melting chocolate,'" he chuckled. "Also, 'Chocolate should only be melted over low heat. White chocolate or vanilla milk chips are the most difficult to melt. Too much heat will make this type of chocolate seize.'"

Elizaveta slammed the bowl down onto the kitchen island. "Are you serious? Did we just fail horribly?"

"You failed horribly. I am glad to say that the foundation of my dobos torte is going smoothly," Gilbert jibed. Elizaveta punched him in the arm.

"How much chocolate do we have left?" Elizaveta asked.

"Less than half a bag," Gilbert said. "Maybe we should've bought both bags after all. I can get another bag."

"No, that would waste time and money," Elizaveta said dismissively. "But how do we melt chocolate properly?"

She turned the white chocolate bag over in her hands before she suddenly spotted small font on the very bottom of the bag. She gaped at the miniscule words.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said flatly. "There are instructions on how to melt chocolate on the bag."

Gilbert chortled, covering his eyes with his hand. "Mein Gott! The strawberries idea failed!"

"We still have hope!" Elizaveta said stoutly. "We have less than half a bag of chocolate left. We're going to melt that, and you _will _succeed in dipping the strawberry the first time!"

"Of course I will!" Gilbert announced. Elizaveta handed the bowl back to Gilbert and poured the paltry remaining chocolate into a separate bowl. She let the chocolate warm in the microwave, taking them out now and then to stir.

"Let's see what else I have to do," Gilbert said breezily, reading the dobos torte recipe again. "'Lightly coat the bottom of seven nine-inch round pans with cooking spray. Weigh the batter. Divide that number by seven and that's how many ounces you will need for each pan in order to create even layers.'" He blinked. "What?"

"Oh no," Elizaveta moaned. "You don't have a food scale, do you? Or seven pans."

"Of course not!" Gilbert cried out. "Who am I, Betty Crocker? We'll just estimate. As for the seven pans…" He shrugged. "I only have two. We bake each baby layer for seven minutes so…I guess we'll be doing this for about twenty-five minutes or so."

"Take your time," Elizaveta muttered as she stirred the chocolate. "And make sure they're somewhat even!"

"Okay, okay!" was Gilbert's cursory reply as he poured a small layer of batter into two of the greased pans. "Why does it have to be seven, though?"

"That's just how it is. Don't question the chef," Elizaveta said, heating the chocolate for another fifteen seconds. After the time was up, Elizaveta sighed with relief. "Okay, the chocolate is ready. Are you?"

"Just a minute!" Gilbert said as he put the pans inside the oven. He set the timer to seven minutes and then turned to Elizaveta as she lined a plate with wax paper. "Now what?"

"Okay, you're going to have to be _really_ careful," Elizaveta said. "Take a strawberry. Dip it to almost the top in the white chocolate. Then put it on this plate. Repeat."

Gilbert took a strawberry from the strainer and held it above the white chocolate.

"And please, please don't fail," Elizaveta begged.

"I won't!" Gilbert said confidently. He dipped the strawberry into the chocolate, covering the entire surface with smooth white chocolate. He carefully lifted it from the bowl and placed it on the plate. "See? I did it perfectly."

Elizaveta let out a sigh of relief. Gilbert repeated the strawberry dipping process without hassle. She hid the strawberries into the fridge.

"The thing is," Gilbert said, "we still have a whole huge box of strawberries and barely half a bowl of white chocolate. Did I just buy that huge box for nothing?"

Elizaveta remained quiet. "Uh…they'll be good decoration."

"Can we eat them? I'm sort of hungry. I skipped lunch."

"No! What if we suddenly mess up when we're dipping the dark chocolate? We're going to use up the white chocolate first." She began to cover the rest of the strawberries with white chocolate. "Why'd you skip lunch?"

"I was studying for AP Calc," Gilbert said simply. Elizaveta smirked.

"So you weren't so confident in your math skills after all, huh?" she kidded.

"I never said that!" Gilbert retorted. "I just wanted to do some…extra studying."

"You shouldn't skip lunch," Elizaveta chided, slapping Gilbert's torso. "You're already so lean."

"I'm not trying to go through a crazy diet plan," Gilbert replied. "Trust me; I would much rather eat lunch than study for a test."

"Well, go eat some wurst or something. Those strawberries are off limits." Gilbert grumbled something inaudibly but kept his distance from the fruit.

After forty minutes of baking the seven layers of cake (one of them Gilbert accidentally burnt and spent a whole five minutes cursing himself in German), they moved on to the chocolate buttercream.

"I am not melting the chocolate again," Elizaveta swore. "You're doing it this time."

"Gilbert to the rescue," Gilbert said as he poured the milk chocolate into another bowl and melted it in the microwave. "How long will the strawberries take?"

"Not too long," Elizaveta said. She glanced at the kitchen island and moaned. "My goodness, Gilbert! Look at the state of your kitchen! Were you jumping up and down when you were mixing the batter?" The kitchen island was covered in excess flower, egg whites, and spilt batter.

"I did that on purpose," Gilbert said mulishly. "Let's multitask. I'm sure you want to go home soon."

"You're right," Elizaveta said.

"Of course I am."

"Don't push it. You make the caramel; I'll deal with the chocolate."

"No way! I'm not going to go burn sugar!"

"You were so excited about it earlier!"

"That's when I realized that I'm quite prone to burning things."

"Fine, I'll do it!" Elizaveta snapped. She poured the two-thirds cup of sugar into a heavy saucepan. She turned up the heat and let the sugar brown and thicken.

"This is fun!" Gilbert said as he stirred the chocolate with a skewer. "I haven't done this kind of thing in two years. Wow, this brings back memories. Remember when we were tykes and we tried to make a wedding cake for ourselves?"

"Oh my goodness," Elizaveta exclaimed, giggling. "We were so young! We didn't even know what marriage meant back then!"

"If I asked you again, would you still say yes?" Gilbert asked, grinning. Elizaveta flashed a noncommittal smile at him.

"Like you would ever ask me again. Unless you want to have permanent migraines for the rest of your life."

Gilbert chuckled as he took the bowl of melted chocolate from the microwave. He beat butter with a whisk as he simultaneously poured egg whites and sugar into a double boiler.

"Slow and steady wins the race," Elizaveta reminded him as he quickly beat the butter, practically smashing it with the spinning whisk.

"Blah, blah," Gilbert said. "Move it, I've got to whip the eggs." Elizaveta raised an eyebrow. Gilbert groaned. "Please…?"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes and grinned. "Finally." She stepped aside and poured the thick caramel onto the top cake layer. She took a butter knife and made smooth lines on the caramel, dividing the layer into sixteen equal wedges.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert cried out when he saw Elizaveta marring the golden caramel.

"It's supposed to be this way!" Elizaveta snapped, waving the butter knife around. Gilbert grabbed her wrist before the sticky knife could come in contact with him.

"First textbooks, now this? You've got to keep your sadistic pleasures to yourself."

Elizaveta wiped the caramel onto Gilbert's wrist. Gilbert yelped at the touch of the hot caramel and quickly ran cold water over it. Cold jets of water splashed onto the ground. "Aw, crap! I'll wipe that up later." He hastily returned to the egg and sugar mixture on the double boiler. He hastily transferred the frothy white into a mixing bowl when he froze.

"Crap," he muttered. "We forgot to wash our hands."

"It's okay! We'll be fine!" Elizaveta said quickly.

"No, we aren't! What if I poison the cake? I want to go out with her, not kill her!" Gilbert yelled.

"All you touched was Gilbird—"

"Do you _know_ what a chick does when you're not watching it? I don't. It probably frolics in its own waste!"

"You didn't really touch anything," Elizaveta said, frowning. "I mean, you held the strawberries by the stems."

"The germs could—I don't know—crawl down to the fruit! I've got to start over." Gilbert pumped a handful of soap in his hands and rubbed vigorously until he wore a thick glove of foam.

"You don't have the time or ingredients to start over! It'll be fine! The oven will burn the germs, and the strawberries—whatever. Just relax, Gilbert," Elizaveta urged as Gilbert rinsed the soap off his hands. In his frenzy, even more water spilled onto the ground. "She's not going to tell the difference."

"She will tell the difference! Trust me on this!" Gilbert said loudly. "Augh—no, don't touch!" Elizaveta was about to continue mixing the egg white and sugar until Gilbert interrupted her. "I'll do all this. Just—just read me the instructions."

"Fine," Elizaveta said reluctantly. "You're supposed to whip the egg whites and sugar until they form peaks."

"Peaks?" Gilbert frowned.

Elizaveta sighed. "It'll have the consistency of whipped cream. Seriously, Gilbert, what would you do without me?"

"I probably wouldn't even be doing all this," Gilbert muttered as he turned the electric mixer on the highest power.

"You could always have Ludwig help you," Elizaveta pointed out.

"That's not what I—never mind," Gilbert said quickly. "This is a lot of cream."

"It's supposed to go in between all the cake layers and around the cake," explained Elizaveta. "Augh! Gilbird! Get out of there!" Gilbird hopped out of the fruit bowl and perched itself on the edge of the large mixing bowl.

"No!" Gilbert practically flicked the bird off the bowl. "Did he go to the bathroom in here?" He searched wildly through the mixture. "Mein Gott, I think he pooped in there."

"He didn't poop; I would've seen it!" Elizaveta said.

"I'm serving her Gilbird crap!" Gilbert exclaimed.

"No! His rear end wasn't even facing the bowl!" Elizaveta cradled the small chick in her hand and placed it on her shoulder. "You're so cute, aren't you?"

"What?" Gilbert looked up, perplexed. He saw Elizaveta stroking Gilbird's little head. Gilbert blushed slightly and awkwardly returned to whipping the cream.

"Oh, nothing, I was just talking to the bird," Elizaveta said flippantly.

"I know," Gilbert said hurriedly. "Pass the chocolate over; the cream is getting stiff."

Elizaveta handed him the bowl of melted chocolate. He poured the thick chocolate into the cream; it lolled over the edge of the bowl like sleek silk. Just as he was about to fold the chocolate into the cream, he slapped his forehead.

"I was supposed to put the chocolate in the butter first!" Gilbert cried.

"It doesn't matter!" Elizaveta screeched. "Seriously, it doesn't! They're going in the same place anyways!"

"What if there's some chemical reaction that is supposed to happen first between the chocolate and the butter?" Gilbert rejoined.

"You took AP Chemistry last year! You should know that it _doesn't matter_!" Elizaveta groaned. "I've never seen you so paranoid before!"

"I'm serious about this! I refuse to let this fail!" Gilbert said. "Not that it has that much of a chance of failing, since I'm making it, but better safe than sorry."

Elizaveta felt the starting of a migraine in her head. She poured the melted butter into the chocolate cream as Gilbert ferociously whipped the cream.

"Slow down!" Elizaveta said, grabbing Gilbert's wrist as he briskly whisked the chocolate and butter into the cream. Gilbert stiffened and halfheartedly slowed his pace. "You're acting like your life depends on it."

"I'd put my own head on a platter if something goes wrong," Gilbert said. He pushed the bowl away from him. "Okay. That's all done. I guess we can put it on the cake—AUGH!"

Just as he was moving towards the pans full of the seven cake layers, he accidentally slipped on the slick water spill from the faucet. He crashed onto the wooden floor; his head collided onto the ground with a sickening thud. Elizaveta yelped and hurried to Gilbert's side. Gilbird nearly fell off her shoulder in her swiftness.

"Gilbert!" Elizaveta cried. She shook his shoulder gently. "Are you okay?"

He blearily opened his eyes, squinting from the bright kitchen light. "Ow," he choked out.

Elizaveta lifted his head slightly so she could put her hand under it. There wasn't any blood or shattered skull as far as she could feel.

"I should've wiped that up earlier," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"No—don't close your eyes! I don't want you to pass out on me!" Elizaveta said worriedly. She put a hand on his cheek, tapping it to wake him up. "Don't move. I'm going to get your ice."

"Aw, don't bother," Gilbert mumbled. "I'm not ninety years old or anything. I just fell. I didn't feel a thing."

"A rugby player would've gotten injure with that fall!" Elizaveta said.

"I'm more awesome than a rugby player," Gilbert replied as he struggled to sit up.

"Don't move!" She pressed Gilbert down to the ground. Realizing what an awkward position they were in, she dearly hoped Ludwig wouldn't return home at this very moment and find the two on the ground.

"How many fingers am I holding?" she asked, holding up four fingers.

"Who cares?" Gilbert groaned. Elizaveta scrutinized Gilbert's dark red eyes. His pupils didn't seem to have unequal size. She let out a sigh of relief; he had narrowly avoided a concussion.

"Maybe you should lie down a bit," Elizaveta suggested softly.

"Heck, no. Are you crazy? I haven't even put the chocolate in the cream yet," Gilbert protested.

"You already did that," Elizaveta reminded him.

"Oh. Well, then." He struggled to sit up, rubbing the back of his head. "Cake. Cream. Yeah, let's do this."

"Not until I get you some ice," Elizaveta ordered. She threw open the freezer door and pulled out an ice pack. She rushed to Gilbert's side and gently pressed the ice onto the back of his head. He yelped at the sudden cold and made to escape, but Elizaveta grabbed Gilbert's hair before he could move.

"Don't you dare," she said threateningly. Gilbert growled but remained still. Elizaveta lightly soothed his swelling wound, slowly letting go of her grip on his soft white hair.

"I'm like your mother," she said through gritted teeth. It wasn't until the words came out of her mouth did she realize what she had said. She inwardly swore and clamped her mouth shut.

"Yeah, you are," Gilbert mumbled. "He tilted his head and glanced at her. "I'm serious. You don't look like her or anything, but the way you are…" He rubbed his eyes. "Ow. That hurts."

"I can feel a little lump there," Elizaveta said, running her finger across his scalp. "You should take it easy."

"I don't need to take it easy!" Gilbert said. He pushed himself off the ground, clutching on the edge of the kitchen island. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Maybe getting up that fast wasn't such a great idea after all."

Elizaveta gripped his shoulders tightly to steady him. "You worry me, Gilbert. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

"Since when have I ever gotten myself almost killed?" Gilbert asked.

"Like that time when you jumped off your roof because you thought you could fly?" Elizaveta reminded him. "And that other time when you swam into the flooded river because I dropped my action figure in there?"

"Hey, at least you got it back," Gilbert said, shrugging. "Kiss it, make it better?" He gestured to his head wound.

She patted it lightly instead. "I don't hand out kisses like free handshakes, hun."

"Fair enough," Gilbert said. He arranged the layers of cake onto a large plate, spreading a generous sheet of cream on top of each layer.

Elizaveta opened the refrigerator and prodded the dipped chocolate. "Hey, the white chocolate is hard now. I'm going to melt some milk chocolate."

Gilbert nodded, completely engrossed in his dobos torte. He bent down so he was eye level to the top of the layer, slowly skimming off a small sheen of excess cream.

"What are you doing?" Elizaveta asked as she poured the ample remainder of chocolate pieces into one of the last clean bowls.

"I'm supposed to distribute the cream evenly on each level," Gilbert explained.

"Since when were you a perfectionist?" Elizaveta demanded.

"Never, because everything I do is perfect," Gilbert replied. Elizaveta raised an eyebrow at the unspoken contradiction but let it pass.

"Are you ready to add the finishing touches?" Elizaveta asked as she took the cold plate of strawberries from the fridge.

"Not ye-e-et. Can't you see I'm still working on this thing?" Gilbert nagged, carefully placing the last caramel-covered layer on the top. "I need to use up the rest of the cream."

"It doesn't have to be perfect," Elizaveta said. "As long as the top is good, the sides don't matter."

"Okay." To Elizaveta's surprise, Gilbert merely scooped the remaining cream from the bowl and slathered it on the side in a swift, carefree motion.

"Perfection doesn't last long, I see," Elizaveta noted.

"It is perfect. You just said it didn't have to be perfect, so I didn't make it perfect. Which makes it perfect."

"Your logic is…never mind. We still have one last thing. Put that in the fridge," Elizaveta ordered. "And don't move so fast; I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself again."

"It was the water's fault, not mine," Gilbert said defensively as he safely stowed his cake away into the fridge. "Now, with the chocolates…"

Elizaveta speared the top of the strawberry with a fork. "Just dip it in an angular way so that the 'shoulders' are covered, but they still have a V-neck." She turned to see Gilbert staring blankly at her. "You know, I'll just do it myself."

"No!" Gilbert shouted. "Just…walk me through." He took the strawberry from Elizaveta and held it over the bowl of chocolate.

Elizaveta held Gilbert's wrist and guided it through the process. "You sort of tilt it to the side so the top of the edges are covered in chocolate, and not the whole front," she explained. "Your hands are really, really cold, by the way."

"Eh?" Gilbert choked out, startled. Elizaveta felt her cheeks grow warm.

"Whatever," she said hurriedly. "And then you sort of do the same with the other—"

"Shoot," Gilbert muttered as the strawberry accidentally slipped off the fork and sank into the deep chocolate abyss. He scoured the surface with the fork in search for the drowning berry. He was like a Native hunting for fish.

"That's what the backup strawberries were for," reminded Elizaveta. The missing strawberry finally resurfaced, completely covered in brown. Gilbert put it on a separate plate and shrugged.

"Okay, let's try again. We'll stick it in deeper this time," Elizaveta said, sliding the strawberry higher up the fork's prongs. She handed it to Gilbert and took his wrist again.

"I think I have the hang of it," Gilbert said.

"O-oh! Right," Elizaveta stuttered. She let her hand stay longer on his wrist before unenthusiastically letting go.

"Side…" Gilbert doused the one side of the strawberry in chocolate. "Side…" Repeat. "Tada! Is that awesome or what?"

"It's very handsome," Elizaveta smiled. Gilbert grinned and exultantly returned it onto the wax paper to set. "Let's give him a bow tie." She dipped a skewer into the chocolate and carefully dripped a bowtie onto the white chocolate undershirt."

"I'm going to make another one. It's fun," Gilbert said as he dressed another strawberry.

"Two strawberry men for a prom date? That's rather suggestive, don't you think?" Elizaveta laughed.

"You would like that kind of stuff, wouldn't you?" Gilbert smirked. Elizaveta giggled at the idea of it.

"I'm not sure if it would extend to fruit, but it's cute," Elizaveta admitted.

Gilbert placed the second strawberry next to the first. He wiped his forehead with his arm and threw all the dirty utensils and bowls into the sink.

"We're going to clean this. You know that, right?" Elizaveta said as she adorned the second strawberry with a bowtie.

Gilbert groaned. "But West enjoys cleaning! He'll have a heyday when he sees the kitchen!"

"I don't care. This is not messy kitchen; this is a warzone. Now clean the kitchen island and throw the dishes into the dishwasher before I dump this bowl of chocolate on your head."

"Fine," Gilbert grunted. He tore a couple wads of paper towels from the roll and wetted it with water. He wrung it tight and wiped the excess flour and batter off the kitchen island. Elizaveta loaded the dishwasher with countless whisks, knives, and dirty bowls.

"You make a simple job a complete mess," Elizaveta muttered as she stocked the batter-stained mixing bowls inside the washer.

"Watch where you're stepping," Gilbert advised as Elizaveta came dangerously close to the guilty puddle of water. He threw the dirty lump of paper towels into the trash can and bent down to wipe up the water.

"I don't know what to do about all that chocolate we melted, though," Elizaveta sighed, glancing at the bowl of chocolate sitting at the edge of the counter. She tore off a sheet from the paper towels and began wiping the counter.

"Why'd you go ahead and melt the whole bag, then?" Gilbert asked, scrubbing the floor furiously as if avenging his fall.

"I don't know," Elizaveta sighed. She tucked flyaway strands of hair behind her ear. "So what class are you giving this to her?"

"Mmm, my only class with her," Gilbert said.

"What time is that?" Elizaveta asked.

"Oh, I'm keeping that one a secret," Gilbert laughed. "I know that you know my schedule through and through. You might track her down."

"You won't even tell me who the girl is, even after all I went through," Elizaveta said, pouting.

"What are you talking about? I gave you chances to run away! You probably came here in hopes of finding Feliciano grapple West."

"That's not it!" Elizaveta said, though she admitted to herself that if that was the case, it would've been a very nice bonus. "I came because I wanted you—" As she took a ferocious swipe at a dirty spot on the counter, she accidentally knocked over the bowl of melted chocolate. The bowl toppled over the side, landing splat on top of Gilbert's head.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" Elizaveta cried. Chocolate completely coated Gilbert's white hair and trickled down his face and neck. He climbed onto his feet, wiping chocolate off his forehead and licking it.

"I always knew I was tasty," he said cheerily as chocolate dribbled down his arms. "Man, there goes all the chocolate. I was hoping to treat you to a fondue dinner, too."

"I have had enough with chocolate today," Elizaveta said. "I'm really sorry."

"I know you are. Such a waste of good quality Ghiradelli."

"I'm serious," Elizaveta said, taking the bowl off of Gilbert's head.

"Well, at least most of the chocolate fell on me and not the floor," Gilbert commented. He took off his soiled shirt and squeeze out the melted chocolate out of his hair. Elizaveta blushed deeply and she quickly averted her gaze.

"I better wash myself before West tackles me with lye soap," Gilbert sighed. He hurried upstairs to the bathroom. "Are you hungry? We've got food in the fridge if you want."

"I'm not in the mood for wurst," Elizaveta jibed as she followed Gilbert up the stairs.

"You should always be in the mood for wurst. But we actually don't have any. There's schupfnudel."

"I'll be fine," she said as Gilbert disappeared into his bedroom to grab a fresh pair of clothes. It was almost blinding to see Gilbert's pale body. It shouldn't be a new sight; Elizaveta swam with him many times when they were little, but not recently.

"I'll see you then," Gilbert said as he slipped inside his bathroom.

"Ta," Elizaveta said. When Gilbert locked the bathroom door, Elizaveta was seized with a burning curiosity. She hadn't seen Gilbert's room properly since they were young tykes in middle school; had he changed his style much? She cautiously opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Ludwig had cleaned the room and Gilbert didn't have enough time to mess it up.

The entire room was a shade of deep Prussian blue. The blankets, the wallpaper, even the carpet was a dark, midnight color. There was a small bowl full of cotton balls sitting on the desk. Elizaveta raised an eyebrow confusedly at it but let it pass.

There was a bookshelf completely stuffed with old journals that Gilbert had kept since he was young. Elizaveta felt her heart jump; perhaps Gilbert would mention who the mystery girl was in his journals? She poked her head outside the bedroom door to make sure Gilbert was still showering. It was safe to proceed. She pulled the most recent journal out of its spot and flipped through the pages, only to realize that he wrote everything in German. Thwarted, she slid it back into its place.

"Sweet," she muttered to herself as she fingered Gilbert's dark blue electric guitar. It was sleek and in perfect condition, something that surprised Elizaveta immensely. Gilbert struck her as the kind to bash his guitar on the floor after every song.

She looked up and gasped. Nearly every inch of the wall was covered in photographs. The waning sunlight from the window shined on the glossy photos, causing a white streak to cover many. His desk was surrounded with countless pictures of Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio in all sorts of activities. Jamming to their guitars and drums set, at the beach, even posing in front of the Venus statue in the Louvre in a rather peculiar way.

On the other side of the room were many pictures of Gilbert's family. There was one when Ludwig and Gilbert were in middle school; Gilbert had Ludwig in a headlock and he was grinding his fist in Ludwig's blond hair. There were many pictures of their mother and their grandfather Old Fritz. Elizaveta felt a pang of melancholy at the sight of their smiling faces, hugging the two Beilschmidt children tightly as if they were for eternity. She remembered how much Gilbert admired Old Fritz, always following him when he visited their homes, listening to the elderly man's stories, following his lessons, and learning how to play music.

_"Old Fritz is coming to town again!" Gilbert said happily, holding Elizaveta's small hand as they climbed up the tall oak tree towards the tree house. _

_"Really?" Elizaveta exclaimed excitedly. "Will he tell us stories like last time? And play with us adventure games? He promised me he would teach me how to battle wizards the next time he came!" _

_"Of course he would!" Gilbert said confidently. "Old Fritz never breaks his promises!" _

Elizaveta gazed into Old Fritz's dark eyes. She could still remember the dazzling stories she told her, Gilbert, and Ludwig when they were little. She was fascinated by the magic he conjured; not a wizard's incantations nor a seer's clairvoyance, but the power to create worlds.

Her green eyes lingered to another person in the pictures. She reached out and fingered Gilbert's mother's beaming face. Was Elizaveta really like his mother? They certainly didn't look alike, but according to Gilbert—well, Gilbert never actually managed to say what was similar between them. Elizaveta crawled onto Gilbert's bed to take a better look at all the photographs he posted. They reawakened sleeping memories inside her mind that she almost let slip away.

_"Eliza and I are going to get married!" Gilbert announced proudly to his mother as she was reading a book in the living room. "Feli and Kiku and West are my witnesses!" _

_"Really?" his mother said, looking up from her book with warm blue eyes. "That's great to hear, Gil!" _

_Elizaveta jumped onto the couch next to Gilbert's mother. "That means you'll be my mama too! I'll have two mamas!" _

_"I'd love to be your new mama, Eliza," said Mrs. Beilschmidt . _

_"Did you ask her to marry her because you saved her, like she is a damsel in distress?" Feliciano asked. He and Kiku had come over to play with Ludwig and in the end all five children partook in a gallant adventure. _

_"Of course not, Feli!" Gilbert said. "She was no damsel in distress! Didn't you know what was going on? She was saving us!" He leaped onto the couch beside Elizaveta, holding his wooden sword high in the air. "I'm a warrior, and true warriors need strong and brave wives!" _

_"And I'm strong and brave!" Elizaveta shouted happily. _

_"We'll be the best married couple ever!" Gilbert declared, despite the fact that they were both in their single digits when it came to age. "We'll battle monsters together and save villages and fight back evil enemies!" _

_"Does that mean you'll have to kiss her?" Ludwig asked, frowning. _

_Gilbert and Elizaveta exchanged concerned glances. Elizaveta shrugged. _

_"I'll kiss you later," Gilbert promised. "A lot later, when we actually know how to kiss, okay?"_

_"That works," Elizaveta said. Mrs. Beilschmidt laughed and rubbed both of their heads. _

_"I always thought you were a good match for Gilbert," she said softly. _

Back then, that comment meant the world to Elizaveta. Looking back, she wasn't sure if she actually loved Gilbert in _that_ sort of way, but there was no point denying that they had shared a close-knit bond. She had wanted to be a good match for Gilbert because they were so close and she didn't want anything to get in between them. Her eight-year-old self wanted a guarantee that they would always stay together.

Elizaveta let her hand drop to her side. Gilbert never really kept his promise of kissing her. Not that she was disappointed of course. No way did she want Gilbert go kiss her. Of course not. She was just upset that he lied to her. Lied to her about giving her something she wanted—no, she didn't want it. Too much chocolate certainly addled with her thinking.

How had they drifted apart, anyways? That was it—they just drifted apart. Not oceans and oceans away, but sometimes Elizaveta found it hard to reach a hand out to him. Oh, her eight-year-old self would kill her if she found out.

Elizaveta noticed with a start that she was in many, many pictures. Photographs from their childhood were plastered all around Gilbert's bed, like the last thing he would see before falling asleep. There were snapshots of her and Gilbert building their tree house, baking their failed wedding cake, waving their wooden swords around while battling invisible specters. She smiled at the sight of them. It was nice that Gilbert kept them; she had thought he would've stowed them away in a dusty cardboard box.

_Elizaveta crawled through her bushes, checking behind her back every now and then. Green leaves clung to her brown hair as she scurried away from the evil neighborhood dog that was pursuing her. She knew she shouldn't have hit the canine with a water balloon, but it was just so tempting. _

_She climbed onto her feet, clinging to the white wooden fence that surrounded a family's yard. To her surprise, she saw a small boy in the backyard, swinging a wooden sword like a baseball bat. He was extremely pale and had pure white hair, despite the fact that he looked no older than she did. She stared in amazement at the strange boy as he lunged at an imaginary monster. Her hand curled around a fallen pinecone and she chucked it at him._

_The pinecone bounced off his head and the boy spun around, holding his sword high and glaring. _

_"Who's there? Is it you, you evil dark sorcerer?"_

_"I'm not an evil dark sorcerer," Elizaveta protested. The boy blinked and lowered his sword at the sight of her. _

_"Did you throw the pinecone at me?" he asked._

_Elizaveta shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. Don't be mad at me." _

_"I'm not." The boy came to her and lifted two loose fence posts off the ground. "Crawl under."_

_Elizaveta immediately obeyed. She crawled into the boy's yard. _

_"Why did you throw a pinecone at me?" he demanded._

_"I don't know," Elizaveta admitted. She glanced at a spare wooden sword on the ground. "Can I play with that?"_

_"Only if you help me fight the evil sorcerer who kidnapped West," the boy said stoutly. "West is my little brother and the evil sorcerer stole him away and put him under a magical spell called 'naptime.'" _

_"Okay!" Elizaveta agreed. She snatched the sword from the ground. "We'll defeat him, don't worry."_

_"Of course I'm not worrying," the boy said confidently. "What's your name? I'm Gilbert."_

_"I'm Elizaveta," she answered._

_"That's a really long name," Gilbert commented. "I'll call you Eliza for short."_

_"No one calls me Eliza," Elizaveta said._

_"Well, I'm going to now." _

_Elizaveta couldn't help but notice that Gilbert's eyes were dark red. It reminded her of the rubies her mother wore on her ears. They were a very stunning color. _

_"I like your eyes," she said frankly._

_"Mama says my eyes and hair color are special," Gilbert said proudly. "No one else at school has white hair or red eyes like me. But they make fun of me for it sometimes."_

_"They're just jealous," Elizaveta assured him. "Let's fight the monster!" _

_"You're right," Gilbert said, nodding vigorously. He took Elizaveta's hand. "I'll be your best friend, okay?"_

_"Sure!" Elizaveta said eagerly. She had always wanted a best friend. "Promise me you will be."_

_"I promise."_

"Holy crap!"

Elizaveta spun around to see Gilbert at the bedroom door, his hair damp and clean of chocolate residue. He was staring perplexedly at Elizaveta.

"I thought you would've gone home by now!" Gilbert exclaimed. "What time is it—seven thirty!"

"It is?" Elizaveta said. She glanced at the digital alarm clock on Gilbert's nightstand.

"Won't your parents be worried?" Gilbert asked, shaking his head to rid his hair of any excess water droplets.

"They're out of town right now; they'll be back a lot later," Elizaveta said. "What's with the bowl of cotton balls on your desk, anyways?"

"Huh?" Gilbert glanced at the desk. "Oh, that. That's where Gilbird sleeps, of course! That awesome little chick needs high-class bedding, after all."

"Cotton balls?" Elizaveta said amusedly.

"Well, it was either that or feathers," explained Gilbert, "and I don't think Gilbird would appreciate it if he slept in his ancestors' coat."

"Good point," Elizaveta said. "I can't believe how many photos you have."

Gilbert grinned and sat down on the bed next to Elizaveta. He pointed to one photo close to the ceiling of them completely covered head to toe in mud. "Remember that? We were playing in the mud pit after a huge storm."

"Oh my goodness, my mother had a fit when she saw me!" Elizaveta laughed. "She wouldn't let me in the house until Old Fritz hosed me down with water."

"And this one too!" He jabbed his finger at a photo of Elizaveta tying Ludwig to a chair. "You wanted to dress West up in Mama's dresses. He was scarred for life; he still remembers that!"

"He looked dashing in dark purple lipstick," Elizaveta grinned. "And here too!" Gilbert and Elizaveta were crouching under a makeshift tent out of sheets, waving flashlights and glowsticks at each other. "We used to do this every weekend!"

"Those were great," Gilbert said. "Through all the hard times in my life, those nights kept me alive. Look at this one!"

Gilbert was dressed prim and proper; a rare sight (though his metal cross necklace was visible under the unbuttoned collar). He was holding up a violin, a look of pure victory on his face with Elizaveta hugging him. "Your first violin competition."

"That was one awesome success," Gilbert said. "I don't remember if I ever thanked you for coming."

"Meh, doesn't matter," Elizaveta said.

"It does," Gilbert said. "It meant a lot. Really."

Elizaveta felt an itching sensation inside of her. "I'm glad you think my presence is awesome."

"Ha ha. If there wasn't so much sadistic tendencies and strange desire for kinky sex, I think it would be close to my level of amazing."

"How long have we known each other?" Elizaveta asked.

"Since we were four," Gilbert said. "So that would be…wow. More than a decade!"

Elizaveta gave a low whistle. "More than half my life has been plagued with your company."

"You enjoyed it; admit it," Gilbert smirked.

"Yeah, yeah," Elizaveta snickered. "How's your head?"

"It's fine," Gilbert said. Elizaveta hit him across the back of his head. He yelped and clutched his head, falling onto the bed. "Okay—_anyone _would get hurt if you did that to them!"

"I didn't even hit hard," Elizaveta said defensively. "Here—I'm going to get you an ice pack."

"Why? They're hard," Gilbert complained. Elizaveta hurried downstairs to snatch an ice pack from the freezer. She wrapped the ice pack in a cotton hand towel and rushed back to Gilbert.

"Lie down and use this as a pillow," Elizaveta ordered, placing the softened ice pack onto Gilbert's pillow.

"I'll freeze my head; are you trying to make me sick?" Gilbert grumbled.

"Just do it, or else I'll tie you down," Elizaveta threatened. Gilbert shrugged and lied down on the bed, his head resting on the ice pack. "You scared me; I thought you were going to get a concussion."

"I'm not dead or anything. I just broke my skull and rearranged my personality brain cells."

"Great," Elizaveta said teasingly. "Maybe you'll stop being such a pest."

"Maybe," Gilbert laughed. He looked straight in to Elizaveta's eyes with a completely calm, collected look, an expression Elizaveta never thought Gilbert possessed. He almost looked sad.

"Is this better?" he said, lowering his voice into a tragic whisper.

Something froze inside of Elizaveta. She was suddenly seized with the urge to rip his face apart, tear off the solemnity and the tragedy. This was not the real face. It was a mask; a horrible, heartbreaking mask that wasn't meant to stay long. She could almost see tear tracks on his cheeks, his red eyes blank and unseeing, his voice says polite and short words but his eyes are speaking, saying they're gone Mama and Old Fritz are gone why did they have to leave so soon why did anyone want to kill Mama Papa won't talk to any of us West is a wreck I'm dying inside they're dead dead dead—

Elizaveta wrapped her arms around Gilbert's lean body. Gilbert stiffened with complete surprise, cautiously returning the hug and completely confused. Her nails dug deep into his back as she buried her face into his chest.

"Eliza?" Gilbert asked awkwardly. "Um…you're okay, right?"

"It's not better," she said severely, her voice muffled. "I don't want you to change into that. It's bad enough you have to be like that occasionally."

It took Gilbert a while to understand what Elizaveta was talking about. He playfully tugged Elizaveta's long hair.

"Of course I'm not like that," he said brightly. "You know I'm too awesome to change into some monotonous wax doll."

Elizaveta let go of Gilbert when she realized what a strange position they were in, since Gilbert was still lying down. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that she had just hugged Gilbert. She _hugged Gilbert_! Of all things! Of all people! But she didn't feel any regret in doing so. It had felt warm and familiar.

"So do you think this will work?" she asked Gilbert. "The whole date thing."

"What do you think?" Gilbert asked.

Elizaveta shrugged. "I'd say yes if some guy gave me the same treatment."

"Then I think we have a winner," Gilbert said boldly.

Elizaveta shifted awkwardly in her seat. "So…you're not just doing this for the date? You actually like her, as in…_like_ her?"

"I do," Gilbert admitted. Elizaveta felt her heart flutter indignantly inside her chest. She gazed reproachfully at Gilbert.

"How do you know this girl is right for you?" she demanded. "What if you made a—a mistake?"

"I'm absolutely, positively sure that this is no mistake."

Elizaveta felt her heart sink to her stomach. She stared down at the carpet.

"I better get going," Elizaveta mumbled. She took a second glance at Gilbert. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was still awake. She slapped his stomach. "Don't forget to eat. I'm not letting you skip two meals a day."

"I'll wait till West comes home," Gilbert said. He opened his eyes and hesitated before speaking. "And…thanks. For everything. I'll give you your reward tomorrow once I get it all finished."

"What do you mean, finished?" Elizaveta asked.

"The tape. I'm burning it to a CD, since nothing plays tapes anymore," Gilbert explained.

Elizaveta clapped her hands excitedly. "I'll look forward to it. And make sure you have West check your head. I don't want you getting a concussion." She hesitated. "And good luck. Tomorrow, I mean."

"Yup," Gilbert said, closing his eyes. Elizaveta got up and gazed at Gilbert, who was drifting asleep. She had a sudden urge to stroke his pure white hair for some odd reason. She fought it back and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

_Elizaveta clung for dear life on the rooftop. Don't look down. Don't even think about looking—she was thinking about looking down. Life's beautiful ironies. _

_She pulled herself up higher until she was in a steady position on the roof. It was nighttime; the stars were gleaming brightly overhead. It couldn't have been any earlier than ten thirty in the night. She knew her visit was extremely sudden, but when she found out what happened, she couldn't wait for the next day. _

_She gazed through the window to see inside. Gilbert was in his bedroom. She couldn't tell what he was doing; it was pitch dark inside. He might have been sleeping; he was lying on his bed. Elizaveta hesitated before knocking on the window. _

_The figure in the bed shot up, glancing around him wildly. He spotted Elizaveta outside his window and nearly fell out of his bed in shock. He rushed towards the window and shoved it open._

_"What are you doing here?" Gilbert asked her. _

_"I needed to see you," Elizaveta whispered. _

_"The front door wasn't an option?" Gilbert asked._

_"I was afraid of waking Ludwig or your father," she said._

_"Well, come inside," Gilbert said, stepping aside. _

_Elizaveta crawled through the window and tumbled inside his room. They were cloaked in darkness; the moon's beams were the only source of light. Being in Gilbert's room in the dark night reminded her of those many times as tweens when they stayed up late listening to the radio play their favorite songs. They would talk about anything that could distract them from problems or stress or anything that caused heartbreak in their lives. _

_Now was not one of those nights._

_"What is it?" Gilbert asked._

_Elizaveta took in a deep breath. "We missed you and Ludwig at school this week."_

_"Mmm." No egotistical or sarcastic remark whatsoever. Just a sound. It wasn't even a word. _

_"I found out from Ludwig," she said softly. "Well, technically I found out from Kiku, who found out from Ludwig."_

_Gilbert turned away from Elizaveta, facing the door. Elizaveta reached out and touched Gilbert's shoulder. _

_"I'm so sorry," she whispered. _

_Gilbert leaned against the wall before slowly sliding to the floor. Elizaveta crouched down next to him, holding his hand. They were quite cold, which was strange because it was spring. _

_"You don't have to be," Gilbert muttered. "Old Fritz had it coming. He was waiting for it practically; he was in that much pain. You know how sick he's been…" Gilbert's voice trailed away and he gripped tighter on Elizaveta's hand. He couldn't say the same for his mother. She was shot in the head during a bank holdup, in the wrong place at the wrong time. _

_"Gil," Elizaveta said softly. She couldn't believe that this was the same boy who taunted her and Roderich, who played pranks on them, who was notorious for arguing with teachers and laughing so hard that he could be heard even during a spirited pep rally. She had never seen him so melancholic before. _

_"Their funerals are this Friday," Gilbert said. Elizaveta saw his face and to her surprise saw tears streaming down his pale face. His voice was completely calm and his equanimity was etched onto his face like stone, yet tears rolled down his cheeks as if the soul was bleeding. _

_The sky shattered. The stars exploded. An invisible hand popped the perfect bubble. They were exposed to the whips of reality and fate's cruel touch. They were snatched away from their carefree glass box and thrown aside into the chaotic space of life and reality. Nothing was fair. Nothing made sense. It was like suddenly realizing that monsters were real or that everything life seemed like was actually a dream, or that the smile on the clown's face was only a painted mask hiding a river of tears. _

_"You don't have to come but—"_

_"I'll come," Elizaveta assured him. "Of course I will." _

_Gilbert gazed at her and almost immediately, Elizaveta could see everything that he felt. Everything that he wanted to say but kept locked inside his heart shone in his eyes. Elizaveta felt a lump in her throat when she realized that this _was_ her Gilbert and not an alien dressed in his skin. This was his pain, his true, heartbreaking pain that she had not seen until now. _

_But it didn't matter. She could look into those glimmering red eyes for as much as she wanted and no matter what, she could do nothing. And when the calm composure finally broke and the mask of equability shattered to reveal Gilbert's true feelings, the tears, and the horrible pain, she could only stare with a lump burning in her throat but no words. She hadn't the right words to say or the right tact to comfort him. Seeing Gilbert like this made her realize that she was powerless, useless, and helpless and it didn't matter that they were friends for years upon years because she just didn't know what to do anymore._

_All she could do was hold him tight and cry with him. _

**Real life story: So…our little cake-making and strawberry-dipping day was more or less chaotic than Gilbert and Elizaveta's. I'm actually going to go with more chaotic, mostly because our kitchen was a complete MESS afterwards and we had so many epic fails that it was just…fail. Yeah. The whole process was videotaped and put on YouTube, but I'm a little worried about giving the link because it's sort of embarrassing. It was extremely funny though. Stressful, but funny. **

**If one of you find a song reference in this chapter, you get a prize. One of them is blatantly more obvious than the other, so that would deserve a review for one of your stories. The other one isn't as well-known as the first one (in my opinion, because the song isn't what you would call mainstream even though I love the band) so that might deserve a request for something to show up in the next chapter. **

**Shego219 guessed right for the last chapter's music challenge. It was 'Letter's To the President' by Hawk Nelson. She requested the word 'cotton.' Admittedly, I had a bit of trouble...  
**

** By the way, I noticed my cell phone refuses to type 'Prussia' when I text. How depressing.**


	5. Rosebuds

Elizaveta pushed her way through the crowded hallways to her AP European History class. Today was the day Gilbert asked that girl out to the prom. She would've texted him, but her cell phone had died last night and she left it in her house.

Besides, she really wanted that video of Antonio and Lovino now. AP Euro was the only class she had with Gilbert this year, so he better have remembered to bring it with him.

"Bonjour, Elizaveta!" Francis called out when Elizaveta passed him and Antonio. He and Antonio suddenly started laughing, waving at Elizaveta like idiots. Elizaveta raised an eyebrow in confusion and headed towards them. Antonio nudged Francis in the rib and they straightened their posture, grinning like twin Cheshire cats.

"Hi Francis, Antonio!" Elizaveta said. She could try finding out about the girl now. If Gilbert wouldn't tell her before, what were the chances he would spill today? "Have you seen Gilbert today?"

"Why of course," Francis said smoothly. "Why do you ask? Have you delayed your answer until now?"

"What do you mean by that?" Elizaveta asked. Francis chuckled and smoothed down his blond hair.

"Ah, nothing. I speak riddles."

"I see," said Elizaveta suspiciously. "I was wondering—since today Gilbert is going to ask the girl out—can you tell me _now _who she is?"

"Why so curious?" Antonio asked brightly.

"Is the green-eyed lass becoming a green-eyed monster?" Francis grinned.

"No!" Elizaveta lied, shoving down the envious prick in her heart. "I wanted to know, since I helped him come up with ideas to ask her out and _make _the dobos torte!"

Francis and Antonio looked equally startled. "He had you help him?" Antonio asked.

"Well, he didn't want me to help, but I made him let me," Elizaveta added. Antonio and Francis raised an eyebrow at each other.

"That's complicated," Francis finally said.

"Why?" Elizaveta questioned.

"Because why would Gilbert have you help if he was going to ask—?" Antonio began, but Francis discreetly pinched Antonio in the rear end to make him squeal with surprise and forget what he was about to say.

"We've got to go now!" Francis sang, tugging his friend away from Elizaveta. "Adieu, Elizaveta!"

Elizaveta grew even more puzzled, but hurried towards her next class. The classroom was up ahead. Elizaveta braced herself and strode forward. This was it. The moment of truth. Not to mention the moment of payment. Gilbert almost always arrived in AP Euro before she did. She would walk through that door, march straight towards him, demand the tape, and grudgingly ask him how it went—

Well, she did walk through the doorway. But she didn't march straight to Gilbert and receive her video. She was rooted to the spot, staring at her desk, her jaw hanging.

The dobos torte in a white takeout box was sitting on her desk. _On her desk_.

This was impossible.

She edged closer to it, prepared to jump back in case it exploded. There were homemade paper flowers surrounding the cake; when did Gilbert know how to fold flowers? On top of the dobos torte were the two strawberries in their chocolate tuxedos, along with…

Written in delicate chocolate words was, '_Táncol_?' The Hungarian word for dance. A CD was placed right next to it, with the words, "_For your sinful pleasures_."

This couldn't be happening.

Elizaveta could hear the wolf whistles and the girlish shrieks and giggles around her as spectators saw her gawking at the invitation on her desk. It all suddenly crashed on to her. This was why Gilbert insisted on doing everything Elizaveta's way, why he didn't want her helping him make the torte, why he never told him the girl's name! It was _her all along_!

She looked up immediately. Gilbert was across the room. He offered her a smile. She was too shocked to even respond to him.

"Oh my goodness!" Mei gasped, sneaking up behind Elizaveta and shaking her shoulders. "Someone asked you out! Who asked you out? Who?" She saw the handwriting on the CD and squealed. "Is it Gilbert? Tell me it's Gilbert. I knew it was Gilbert! _Tai hao le_, Gilbert finally asked you out!"

"What do you mean by finally?" Elizaveta said weakly.

Before the Taiwanese girl could respond, the teacher slammed the door shut as the late bell rang.

"Okay, kids, to your seats," he said. He raised an eyebrow at Elizaveta's boxed cake. "Lunch was last period, Elizaveta."

"I know," Elizaveta said quickly. She stowed the cake inside her purse, making sure she didn't tip it in any way. She took the paper flowers from her desk and held it in her hands. They looked like they took an extremely long time to make.

"Now, to celebrate the end of yet another dastardly chapter…"

Elizaveta tuned out the teacher's voice. She ran her finger across the pink paper petals that Gilbert had folded. They looked so delicate and beautiful; though they didn't seem anywhere near a real rose, they carried their own special beauty. Did Kiku teach Gilbert how to fold the flowers? It didn't seem like Kiku's style, however; Kiku would've made the stem out of paper also, not a bright green pipe cleaner with rounded paper leaves stuck through. She noticed that the leaves had words written on them:

_A rosebud is a pretty thing, but it must bloom to see the world._

Elizaveta bit her lip in uncertainty. What did that cryptic message mean?

"Elizave-e-eta!"

Elizaveta looked up immediately to see the teacher looking at her expectantly. She blushed with embarrassment.

"Um, yes, sir?" she said tentatively.

"What is your vote?" he asked.

"Vote…?"

"For the movie we're watching today, in commemoration of finishing the last chapter of the year." He held up two DVDs. "I'm trying to be democratic, and this is what I get."

"I'm sorry," Elizaveta stammered. "I'll go with 'Schindler's List,' then."

"All right, votes are tallied, 'Schindler's List' wins," the teacher said. He turned off the lights, bathing the classroom into darkness save the strips of sunlight squeezing under the window blinds. Luckily for Elizaveta, she was closest to the window and could use the paltry amount of light to see the rose.

If a rose must bloom to see the world…

Since when was Gilbert so enigmatic?

She stowed the rose into her purse. The rose wasn't her main concern at the moment. It was the fact that Gilbert was asking her out. All those things Gilbert said about the mystery girl…did he mean it? Did he actually think Elizaveta was lovely, and that she was like an older sister, and everything else that he reluctantly admitted?

Elizaveta had no idea what to do.

* * *

Gilbert paced in the courtyard, his hands growing clammy. Why was he so nervous? He was Gilbert Beilschmidt, the fearless Prussian. He wouldn't let something like this bother him. He was too good for that.

Nevertheless, Gilbert felt the butterflies in his stomach dance a mad frenzy. School had ended five minutes ago and here he was, waiting in the courtyard for Elizaveta.

She would come.

She had to come. He did everything she wanted. She even admitted she would fall for it if a man gave her the same treatment.

Gilbert rubbed the saxophone necklace that was wrapped around his wrist nervously. Elizaveta had given him the necklace after his first violin competition and he kept it around as a good luck charm. She apparently couldn't find any violin necklaces and settled for the next best thing—a saxophone. He squeezed the tiny charm tight, hoping that the good fortune would seep into his skin.

Gilbert checked the time on his cell phone. Two thirty-five. Classes ended ten minutes ago. Elizaveta was probably stopping at her locker or gushing to her friends about Gilbert asking her out. It was inevitable; girls were quite the social butterflies.

He gnawed on his lip. When Elizaveta found the cake on her desk, the look on her face was complete shock. Gilbert couldn't tell if it was a good shock or bad shock. It must've been a good shock; she didn't knock the cake off of her desk or anything, and she seemed to have liked the paper flowers. Gilbert had spent a good four hours folding countless flowers, finally choosing three of the forty he made to give to Elizaveta.

Goodness, where was that girl?

He leaned against the acacia tree. His fingers were now pink after rubbing the tiny instrument charm so much. Maybe she didn't understand that message he wrote on the leaves. She was supposed to make the flower bloom, or open it up and read the message he wrote inside. She was a smart girl; she had to have understood it.

Gilbert checked the time once more. A girl didn't have to take that long to take books out of her locker, right?

Maybe she didn't understand. He hastily sent a text message to her.

_Hey, did you get the flower message? Can you meet me at the courtyard?_

He had never made so many requests via text message in his whole life. Most of the time, he would give commands.

The wee saxophone was practically losing its luster after being rubbed so much. Gilbert finally let go of it, his fingers somewhat raw.

Gilbert crossed his arms, tapping his feet. West had just called him right after school, saying that he had to do some grocery shopping and then go to a friend's house to work. Which friend, West didn't specify. It was probably Feliciano; West couldn't ever say no to that kid.

Was Elizaveta coming?

What if Elizaveta was insulted that she was asked out? Considering she _did_ do half the work in making the cake and strawberries. That wasn't Gilbert's fault; he had tried to get her out of it, but she refused. She couldn't blame him for that.

Gilbert rubbed his stinging eyes. The sunlight was proving too much for him at the moment. He began picking leaves off the acacia tree and shredding them.

What if she didn't like him that way?

Gilbert resumed his frantic pacing once more. God, this caused more trouble than it was worth. Couldn't she just text an answer back to him? Why wasn't she coming?

After a while of pacing in the courtyard, Gilbert checked the time once last time.

Three o'clock. He had been outside for thirty-five minutes.

Elizaveta wasn't coming.

Gilbert stared down at the phone before shoving it back into his jean pocket. He threw his backpack over one shoulder and finally left, leaving behind the dead shredded leaves.

**I'm having a really, really bad day today…OTL. I am ready to curl up in a fetal position and die anytime now…**

**'Tai hao le'—"That's great!" in Chinese. **

**Okay, this chapter didn't happen at all in real life. The Dude asked someone completely separate from my sister. She said yes, if anyone cares. We were all very surprised; we were actually expecting her to say No…**

**Vampire Scooby got the prize for guessing 'Those Nights' by Skillet. The request was a saxophone necklace. **

**As for the flower riddle, my sister made that up. I give all credit to her. **

**By the way, the acacia tree stands for 'Secret Love.' **


	6. Liebe

Elizaveta was exhausted beyond belief. She was practically melting on the passenger seat of the car, clinging onto two white takeout boxes. It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening. Her stomach rumbled; she had skipped dinner.

"Thanks so, so, so much, Ludwig," she mumbled for the umpteenth time.

"You're welcome," Ludwig replied as he drove the car through his neighborhood. "Would you like some dinner at our place? I'm sure you're starving."

"First things first," Elizaveta said. "I've got to give an answer."

Ludwig nodded, pulling the car into his driveway. Outside the sky was a deep violet color, streaked with dark blue and maroon. Elizaveta stepped out of the car, shivering at the dusk coolness.

"So you're positive that these are the exact ingredients?" Elizaveta asked.

"Wouldn't it be too late if I said they weren't?" Ludwig pointed out. "And yes, I'm sure. Mother always went to that German grocery store and bought those exact ingredients. I followed her all the time back then."

"That's good," Elizaveta said, relieved. Ludwig unlocked the front door and they both stepped inside.

"Ich bin zurückgekommen!" Ludwig announced as he took off his shoes. They entered the kitchen; to Elizaveta's surprise, it was still clean and sparkling.

"Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen after you were done, by the way," Ludwig said, throwing his car keys into a drawer. "I don't know how you convinced Gilbert to do it with you."

"Just some persuasion skills," Elizaveta said. Ludwig opened the dishwasher to find the dishes still clean and unloaded.

"I guess he hasn't eaten dinner yet," Ludwig said. "I always tell him that he could feed himself."

"Where is he?" Elizaveta asked.

"Probably in his room. Follow me." Ludwig led Elizaveta up the stairs. As they neared the second floor, Elizaveta could hear the faint music of a guitar and Gilbert's voice singing in German.

"Bruder?" Ludwig said, knocking on Gilbert's door. "There's someone here to see you."

The guitar strumming and the German song stopped abruptly. He answered Ludwig in rapid German. Ludwig frowned in bewilderment.

"It isn't Antonio," Ludwig said. "And why would Antonio look for his underwear in our guestroom, anyways?"

Gilbert replied in a confusing flurry of German, before returning to his guitar. Ludwig reddened and he coughed in his fist, flustered.

"Oh. I see. Well, anyways, it's not Antonio. Or Lovino. Or Francis. It's Elizaveta."

The music deadened. There was silence on the other side. Elizaveta cast a confused glance at Ludwig. Finally, the door swung open, revealing a slightly disheveled Gilbert wearing shorts and a rather ripped wife beater.

"Elizaveta?" Gilbert said, surprised. "Ah. Um, come in."

"I'll be downstairs," Ludwig said before leaving the two. Elizaveta quietly stepped in, holding the two boxes tightly. She kept reminding herself that hers was on the left hand, and his was on the right. Hers, left. His, right.

Gilbert closed the door behind him. He gazed warily at Elizaveta.

"You should've told me you were coming over," Gilbert said, opening his drawers. "I would've put a proper shirt on."

"My cell phone is dead," Elizaveta said. Gilbert froze and looked up at her.

"So you didn't get my message?" he said hopefully.

"Um, I suppose not," she said. She shifted nervously, unable to look at Gilbert in the eyes. "About the dance, Gil…" She handed him a box with her left hand.

Gilbert frowned and circumspectly took the box from her hand. He lifted off the lid and let it drop to the ground. He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed.

"You know, a simple 'no' would've done the trick," he said flatly, staring down at the dobos torte they had made.

Elizaveta frowned in confusion. She stared down at her left hand and realized with horror that she had been stupid as to give Gilbert the left box when she had been constantly reminding herself that his was on the right.

"Wrong box!" Elizaveta cried. She took the dobos torte from Gilbert and handed him the correct box. Gilbert was very cautious now; he opened the box and his eyes widened in surprise. Inside the box was a creamy schwarzwälder kirschtorte, bedecked with bright red maraschino cherries and delicate chocolate shavings. In the middle of the cake was one simple German word written in chocolate.

_Ja._

He nearly dropped the box in shock. He had to set it on his nightstand; his hands were becoming clammy again. He sat down on a canvas chair and ran his hands through his white hair.

"Mein Gott, Elizaveta," he muttered. "I was stressing out the whole entire afternoon because you didn't even respond to me!"

"What are you saying?" Elizaveta asked.

"Didn't you read the message on the flower?" Gilbert asked.

"The flower—oh! No…" Elizaveta admitted.

Gilbert rubbed his eyes. The heavy weight on his chest vanished without a trace. "That explains so much."

"Why? All it said was that a rosebud was a pretty thing, but it had to open to see the world. Something like that."

"Exactly," Gilbert said. "It was a riddle. You were supposed to open the flower and read the message I wrote!" He chuckled. "I was expecting you to catch that."

"I forgot about it once I came up with an idea to surprise you!" Elizaveta said defensively. "What did the message say?"

"The bare bones said to meet me in the courtyard with an answer," said Gilbert. "Then you never showed up, And then I texted you, but apparently your phone was dead, so…"

"That must've been awkward," Elizaveta said, stifling a giggle. "I caused a lot of stress, didn't I?"

"No kidding!" Gilbert exclaimed. "I thought you didn't even bother to give me a 'No' or an 'It's against my religion to date albinos' or something like that."

"Did the Great Wall of Awesomeness crumble?" Elizaveta asked saucily.

"I'm not even going to answer that question," Gilbert said stubbornly. "Why'd you bring the dobos torte, though? When I saw it, I thought you were rejecting me in the most horrible way possible."

"I'm not that cruel," Elizaveta said hotly. "Besides, if I was rejecting you, I'd still keep the cake."

"You evil little…" Gilbert trailed off when Elizaveta laughed. He smiled wryly.

"I wanted to eat with you," Elizaveta said. She pulled two forks out of her purse and handed one to Gilbert. "I ate the strawberries already, though. They were going to melt if I didn't."

"I figured. You go first."

"No, you!"

"We're seriously not going to get into this kind of argument, are we?"

Elizaveta smirked. "Fine. I'll go first, because I know it isn't poisoned." She pierced the dobos torte with the fork. The shining caramel split at the contact and the cake made a foamy sound when the fork slid through. She put it in her mouth, savoring the sweet taste of chocolate and caramel. Her tongue ran through the prongs of the fork to lick off any soft cream left behind.

"It's good, right?" Gilbert urged. Elizaveta nodded, grinning.

"Better than those store-bought ones from long time ago."

"It has to be. We made it," Gilbert chortled. "Now my turn?"

"Don't scarf it down like a cow," Elizaveta ordered. "I spent a long time working on this; I even had Ludwig help me choose the right ingredients and made sure I didn't do something completely wrong."

"So that's where West was the whole day," Gilbert noted. "All right, fine. I won't 'scarf it down,' even though I'm starving and you're depriving me of a full stomach."

"You should've eaten dinner," Elizaveta reprimanded.

"Yes, Mummy," Gilbert joked. He took a bite of the chocolate cake. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"I don't know if it would be exactly like how your mother made it," Elizaveta said nervously. "I tried my best; I made Ludwig walk down memory lane to figure out the ingredients and everything, but I didn't have that secret ingredient she put in…"

"It tastes exactly like hers," Gilbert said quietly.

"But…I didn't put the secret ingredient in there," Elizaveta said, surprised.

Gilbert leaned closer, his eyes bright with amusement.

"Do you know what it is?" he said softly.

"No…" Elizaveta said slowly. "What is it?"

"Liebe," Gilbert said.

"What's 'liebe?' I don't know German food."

Gilbert smiled and brushed her hair behind her ear. "It's not just German. It's universal."

"Well, I'm not the world's best chef," Elizaveta said. She tilted her head. "I put liebe in there?"

"I don't know. You tell me," Gilbert laughed. Elizaveta scowled.

"How would I know? I don't know what liebe is," Elizaveta said.

"Of course you do. But would you have put it in?"

"Gilbert, I'm not in the mood for riddles anymore. My brain is dead and I'm extremely hungry."

Gilbert leaned in so close that his forehead touched hers. His red eyes were right in front of her green ones. Elizaveta could feel her heart flutter with rosy wings.

"'Liebe,'" he said, "means 'love' in German."

Elizaveta leaned in closer, about to kiss him, but instead her lips pressed against his fingers. Gilbert backed away, leaving Elizaveta extremely confused and crestfallen.

"You said you didn't hand out kisses like free handshakes," Gilbert said playfully.

She was going to kill that boy.

"Why do I have to keep my promises if you didn't keep yours?" Elizaveta demanded. She pointed up to the picture of her and Gilbert making their wedding cake on the wall when they were eight years old. "You promised me you would kiss me later in the future, and you never did."

"I can't believe you remember that," Gilbert said, awestruck.

"I can't believe you do too," Elizaveta smirked. "Well? What are you going to do now? Who should be the first hypocrite and liar of the two of us?"

The corner of Gilbert's mouth twitched in humor. "You're right. I need to set an awesome example for you." He humorously tugged at Elizaveta's hair. "If I kiss you first, I can keep my promise and you can keep yours. You're technically receiving, not giving."

"Too true," Elizaveta whispered.

"Or we can wait till later," Gilbert said. "Save the awesome moment for another time—or not." One look at Elizaveta's indignant face made him change his mind. He chuckled and came closer, holding on to Elizaveta's hand tightly—

The door swung open. Gilbert and Elizaveta jumped in shock, bumping their heads and falling back onto the bed. Gilbert scrambled up, flustered.

"Antonio! Francis! _Get out_!" Gilbert yelled.

"She said yes! She said yes! Dios mio, she said yes!" Antonio cheered as Gilbert shoved him out the door. He and Francis celebrated loudly as Gilbert kicked them out and slammed the door shut, locking it.

"I can't believe I gave both of them spare keys to my house," he muttered. "I can't believe I did that."

He turned back to Elizaveta, who was bright red. He let out an exasperated groan. He chuckled weakly and sat back down next to Elizaveta.

"I don't even know how they snuck under the West radar. He wouldn't ever let them inside the house." He rubbed his chin. "I hope they didn't tie him up and throw him in the basement. Nah—West could beat them up easily. Sorry about that."

"It's all right," Elizaveta said faintly, feeling the back of her neck grow extremely warm. She stared down at the carpet awkwardly. Now what were they supposed to do?

"Just a minute," Gilbert said. He dropped to the ground and fished out a wooden sword from under the bed. He stalked to the door and threw it open. Francis and Antonio, who were leaning against the door in hopes to eavesdrop, tumbled inside.

"ATTACK!" Gilbert yelled, raising his sword and chasing after them.

"Sacre bleu! Retreat from the lovesick Prussian! Retreat!" Francis cried out as he and Antonio stumbled down the stairs and narrowly escaped Gilbert. The front door slammed shut, signifying the withdrawal of Antonio and Francis.

Gilbert hurried back to Elizaveta, tossing the sword back under the bed and locking the door. He threw open the curtains of his window and laughed at the sight of his friends' retreating backs.

"That'll teach them never to mess with the Prussian Army!" Gilbert said jubilantly.

"I can't believe you still have that sword," Elizaveta giggled. "I still have mine, but I don't know where it is." She glanced down at the guitar next to Gilbert's canvas chair. "You know that song you were singing before I came in? Sing it again, but this time, not in German."

Gilbert stepped back, startled. "Why do you want to know about it?"

"It was pretty. I want to enjoy it in its entirety, though."

"It's better in German," Gilbert grumbled.

"To you, everything is better in German."

"I know, right?"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes. "Come on, Gilbert. It can't be embarrassing, can it? I've known you all my life; this can't be any worse than any other time."

Gilbert bit the corner of his lip. "Fine." He took his guitar from the ground and sat down next to Elizaveta. "No German? German's a better language."

"No," Elizaveta urged. Gilbert shrugged and began to sing.

_"She sits across the room_

_I can't hear what she says_

_But I can see how her green eyes gleam_

_And how her laughter spreads_

_I can't get it out of my head_

_Because it's my favorite song_."

Elizaveta realized that the song was definitely much lovelier in this language than German.

"_Green eyes, can't you see_

_The green-eyed monster you make out of me_

_When you're with your other friends?_

_It's plain enough to see_

_That the girl I once rejected_

_Is now the girl of my dreams_

_But I'm too proud to say, so I pretend_

_That she means nothing to me_

_She's my worst enemy_

_And my best friend_

_She drives me up the wall_

_Our quarrels never end_

_She always makes me upset_

_She's such a pain in the neck_

_And every time we meet_

_My heart skips a beat._

_Oh, Eliza, if only you could know_

_How I really feel about you. _

_Oh, Eliza, why can't you see?_

_What you're doing to me…_"

Gilbert strummed the last note, his voice trailing away. Just as he lifted his head to Elizaveta, she moved forward and kissed him. Gilbert jolted in shock but closed his eyes and kissed back. The guitar slid to the ground, unnoticed by any of them. Elizaveta pulled herself closer to Gilbert, her heart soaring and her mind screaming, _You're kissing Gilbert, Elizaveta. You're kissing your childhood best friend and oh my God this is so awkward but you're not even thinking about stopping. Elizaveta __Héderváry, YOU ARE KISSING GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT. _

Gilbert broke apart from her, his cheeks slightly pink.

"And you said you didn't give out free kisses," Gilbert teased.

"I don't," Elizaveta said. Gilbert lifted an eyebrow as Elizaveta smiled devilishly.

"I promise you, Eliza, I don't have any more tapes of Antonio and Lovino—"

"That's not it," Elizaveta said. "I haven't even watched the first one yet. Surprising, I know." Her eyes sparkled hungrily. "You've got two choices."

"Okay, shoot," Gilbert said.

"Either you help me prod Ludwig on in declaring his undying love for Feliciano by prom," Elizaveta said, smiling eagerly, "or you kiss me one more time."

Without hesitation, Gilbert kissed her on the lips. Elizaveta wasn't a bit disappointed.

**Thanks so much to all who reviewed this story and added this story to their favorites list! It really means a lot to me~ **

**Writing is seriously my only purpose in life because I can't do anything else to save my life. Thanks to all who keep my purpose in life going!  
**

**It's possible that I may make a sequel for this story. It might actually even have some historical content in it! **

**The twist?**

**It will not be a humor story. In fact, it will be quite the opposite.**

**Aka tragedy/hurt/comfort/angst. **

**Yes? No? Scrap the idea? Give me the first chapter first? Please tell me what you want. **

**Thanks for reading!**


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